Ashton-Kirk, Criminologist

by John Thomas McIntyre

  CHAPTER XXI

  WHAT THE BURGLAR SAID AT GAFFNEY'S

  What the old resident of Stanwick said to Bat Scanlon aroused thatgentleman to a high pitch, and he began asking eager questions.

  "I don't know where she goes," said the man. "I wish I did. But I'veseen her two or three times, and she was just as spry as you'd wantanybody to be. Sick! Sick nothing!"

  Bat's questions continued for some time, but this was the only fact theold man had; and so the big athlete bade him good-night.

  Scanlon thought it best not to go to the railroad station, for there hewould be almost certain to encounter the Swiss and Big Slim. There wasan electric road which cut through the far end of the suburb, and heconcluded it were safer to use this into the city, even though it didtake much more time.

  "But everything's done for the night," said he. "I've got a few morethings to think about, too. So what difference does a half hour or somake?"

  Bat got to bed at his hotel at about midnight; but it was several hourslater before he got to sleep, for the events of the night tossed andmingled in his mind in a most distracting fashion. Consequently, nextday, he arose late, and when he reached the gymnasium it was almostnoon. A note lay upon his desk in the office written in a well-knownhand.

  "I have taken the liberty of borrowing Danny," it read. "There is a matter of some importance which I desire to get at the bottom of, and a small red-haired boy is perhaps the best agent I could employ. Keep in touch with me.

  "ASHTON-KIRK."

  Jimmy Casey, who taught the use of boxing gloves in the gymnasium,explained the matter.

  "He comes here, in an awful rush, about ten o'clock," said Jimmy, "andwants to see you. When he finds out you ain't here, he says it's allright, and don't make no difference anyhow. So he goes into the officeand talks to the kid. And maybe that kid ain't glad, or nothing. His muglooked like a tin pan that'd just been scoured. A couple of minuteslater they beat it away in a cab."

  "It's all right," said Mr. Scanlon. "Some little hurry-up business, Iguess."

  All day Bat worked steadily with his clients. Once in the afternoon hepaused long enough to call Nora on the telephone. Her response wascheerful; indeed, she talked rather gaily of many things, and he finallyhung up the receiver with a wrinkle of discontent between his brows.

  As evening came he took a shower and a rub-down, and then went out for astroll. He had no definite notion in his mind except that he wantedfresh air; but, somehow, his steps led him to the neighborhood ofBohlmier's hotel.

  "Being here," said he, "I may as well go in and visit the halt and thelame. I wonder how much damage I did those two parties. Maybe I'll findthem in their beds."

  He entered the office. Behind the desk was the thick-necked young manwith the low, stand-up collar.

  "Hello," saluted Scanlon. "Where's the boss?"

  "Not feeling right," replied the thick-necked one. "Got a cold, I guess.Settled in his throat."

  Bat turned away with a grin hidden behind one hand. In the lounging roomof the place he looked about for Big Slim; not seeing him, he ascendedthe stairs and knocked upon a door on the third floor.

  "Come in," said the voice of the lank burglar.

  Bat pushed open the door, and found the man standing in the middle ofthe floor, pulling on his coat.

  "Just run up to see if I couldn't drag you off to get some eats," saidBat, cordially.

  "I'm hungry," said the burglar, "but I don't know if I can work my faceor not." He displayed a swollen region extending from his left eye tothe angle of his jaw; besides being puffed and painful looking, it wasbadly discolored. "Get that? Some bump, eh?"

  "I should say, yes," replied Scanlon. "How did it happen?"

  "Last night," stated Big Slim. "I spotted a fellow in the dark who'sturned a trick on a friend of mine. So I made a try to get him. But,"with candor, "I didn't. He got me."

  "Tough," sympathized Bat. "But wait! Maybe you'll have your chance tocome back. You never can tell."

  Big Slim grinned. With his distorted face this was not a pleasant sight,and the look in his eyes was sly and wicked.

  "I'll get back," said he. "Leave it to me for that. I'll lay him out sostiff that a slab in the morgue'll be bent like a pretzel incomparison."

  Bat looked at the man with all the unrestraint of the practicednegotiator.

  "Who is he?" he asked, carelessly.

  Again the sly, wicked look came into the eyes of the burglar.

  "Don't be in a hurry," said he. "You'll know when the time comes."

  Bat drew in a deep, silent breath at this; and when the burglar threwopen the lid of a trunk, which he dragged from under the bed, and tookfrom the tray a black, well-oiled automatic pistol, he felt a tighteningof the scalp. But Big Slim put the weapon in his pocket.

  "No one's ever tagged me out without me landing on his neck," declaredhe. "I do it one way or another, but I always do it."

  They went down-stairs and Big Slim led the way into a back room. It wasthe same in which Bat had seen the Swiss playing the flute on the nightof Nora's unaccountable visit. But Bohlmier was not at all musicallyinclined at this time.

  "No, no," he was saying to the thick-necked young man, "I will nothingto eat have. I am seek! Ach, how I am seek!"

  Big Slim looked at Scanlon and grinned; then he whispered behind hishand:

  "He was in on the same lot of treatment. The guy got him before he didme." Then to Bohlmier he added: "How's the sore throat?"

  "Bad," replied the Swiss, in a strained way. "I a doctor haf had. Hesaid I was lucky that I was not killed."

  "Well, you wasn't," said Big Slim. "So forget that part of it."

  The eyes of Bohlmier, with a cat-like glare in them, went to Bat; thenhe motioned to the burglar, who bent over his chair. The Swiss whisperedcroakingly in the other's ear. Bat could get a word here and there, butnot sufficient to make any sense of what was being said. Once or twicehe saw the eyes of the two men turn upon him, and their eagerexpression--deadly and cunning--made him uneasy.

  "Sure," he heard Big Slim say. "That's right. I didn't miss that trick."

  Then the whispering resumed. He caught fragments, such as: "Get him downthere." "Gaffney's." "I'll fix him, all right."

  "Who, me?" said Bat, to himself, shifting uneasily from one foot to theother. "Do they really know I'm the party who put them on the hospitallist? And are they framing it, right under my nose, to get even?"

  He had heard of such things before--the fate of a victim planned in hishearing and he never the wiser for it. But he hunched his greatshoulders and nodded his head. There were victims and victims. And ifthey tried to lead him into anything he resolved to do his best to proveto them that it was not a sheep they were handling.

  "I'll make the proceedings much more interesting than last night's," hepromised himself. "There was no 'follow up' then. This time there'll beplenty of it."

  In a few moments more the burglar turned to Bat.

  "Bohlmier wants us to go down and see a friend of ours," said he."After we get some feed, you know."

  "Sure," said Bat, readily. "Anything to be sociable."

  They nodded to the Swiss, who sat following them with inflamed eyes asthey left the room. Their journey through the dirty streets to JoeyLoo's was a silent one; and as they entered the high-smelling,underground place and seated themselves, the silence was unbroken. Oneof the detached fragments which Scanlon had caught, a few minutesbefore, kept recurring to him.

  "Gaffney's!" flashed and reflashed through his mind. He paid noattention to it at first; but the mere repetition of the name finallyclaimed his attention.

  "Gaffney's!" He considered it thoughtfully as Big Slim talked to theChinaman who came to serve them. "Why, yes; didn't I hear that namesomewhere before? And not so long ago, unless I'm much mistaken."

  He pondered; but where he had heard it refused to come back, and so hedismissed it from his mind. He gave his order to the stolid,greasy-looking Oriental; and t
hen, looking about the place, said to hiscompanion:

  "Funny looking crowd, eh?"

  Big Slim allowed his eyes to flit about from one pale, hollow face toanother.

  "There's enough to start a 'snow' party right here, if you had thestuff," said he. "I could pick you out twenty customers without making amistake."

  "It beats booze, that stuff," said Bat. "I've seen some tough examplesof how it worked."

  "Great business," said Big Slim, a covetous glint in his eyes. "Bigmoney in it. I'd like to raise a nice stake and get hold of a lot of'snow.' I'll bet I'd take in more real change than a gambling house."

  "Stick to cracking cribs," begged Bat "It's got more stuff in it for aman with nerve."

  "Listen," said the lank burglar as he leaned across the table, "usingyour nerve all the time ain't what they tell you it is. Nerve ain't withyou always; and when it's all warped and faded with hard usage, that'sall you get. If you can't buy more and you can't patch up the old, whatare you going to do? So why not a corner in the dope market as an easygraft?"

  "It don't listen good," said Bat, positively. "I'd rather get a big namefor opening babies' banks. It wouldn't sting so much."

  "You're a regular particular guy, ain't you?" Big Slim had adisagreeable grin on his thin-lipped mouth, and eyed Scanlonattentively. "You must have been well brought up."

  They ate their food in comparative silence when it was brought; and assoon as they had finished the burglar pushed back his chair.

  "Let's get down to Gaffney's," said he. He put his hand to his swollenface as they arose. "I've got a little trick to turn."

  The streets were crowded with a mass of cheap pleasure seekers; theburlesque theatres and motion picture places were besieged with throngs;from the open fronts of auction houses the strident voices of theauctioneers rose in feeling appeals that every one grasp theopportunities offered. "Store show" keepers stood upon high, narrowplatforms draped all about with canvases upon which were paintedmonstrous errors of nature and "wonders" fresh from far-off lands. Therewas a smell of uncleaned corners and open drains; the very mud of thestreets held a greasy quality which made the unaccustomed passer shuddera little, and make haste.

  And upon all this was thrown the glitter of many lights; from iron polesthey hung in huge white domes; windows, filled with flashy merchandise,blazed with clusters of them; reeking alleys were exposed by the glareof their hanging lights as is a deep-set, poisonous sac by the scalpelof the surgeon. Illuminated signs of all sorts glared at one; some werelurid and stationary; others again flowed about in never endingcontortions, making grotesque and high-pitched proclamations.

  "Gaffney's round here somewhere?" asked Bat, after they had walkedthrough the district for some little time.

  "Just off here a little ways," replied the burglar. They turned a cornerunder the lee of a glaring saloon and found themselves in a small streetwhich lay like a back-water off that thronged avenue. "There it is now."

  Bat saw a dingy-looking place with the name "Gaffney" painted in redletters upon the window and two billiard cues in yellow crossed beneathit. They entered and were greeted by a babble of voices, an incessantclicking of balls and the thick odor of poor tobacco. Here and theregames of more than ordinary interest were going on; the principals were,as a rule, fox-like young men who wore no coats and staked theirhandling of their cues against the world for a living. Small crowds weregathered about these contests; the "shots" were lightning-like, and ofgreat precision.

  Lining the walls were rows of men, some with vacant faces, others alertand predatory; and as Bat looked about, he noted what he had noted insuch places many times before.

  "A hang-out for quitters and a meeting-place for yeggs," he thought."There's more good time wasted in places like this and more crookeddeeds hatched than would put a roof over Lake Michigan."

  With Big Slim, he took a station at the far end of the place; here andthere was a doorway opening into a smaller room and in which more tableswere erected.

  "Get that fellow with the curly mop," said the burglar, indicating thisdoorway. "Inside there."

  A middle-aged man in his shirt-sleeves, with a remarkably high collarand a shock of curling and very dark hair, was arranging the balls atone of the inner tables. The shirt sleeves were loudly striped and thecurling hair was arranged in ornamental waves of which he seemed veryvain; for as Bat watched, he saw the man gaze into a specked mirror andpass a hand carefully over them.

  "He looks like the beginning of a parade," said Bat. "Who is he?"

  "Name's Hutchinson, and he runs this place for Gaffney," replied BigSlim. "And," here he grinned and pulled at his bony fingers until theycracked, "he's a very intimate friend of a friend of mine."

  "That so?" Scanlon looked at the man reflectively, and tried to thinkwhat possible bearing this could have on the matter which interestedhim. As far as he was able to see, it had none; but somehow the nameGaffney once more became active in his mind, and this troubled him.

  "It's because it's painted on everything around the place," reasonedBat. "The walls and the cue racks have it; and as I stand here I can seeit done backwards on the front window. Gaffney means nothing in my younglife, so what is his name bumping around in my head for?"

  And then, just as he was on the verge of banishing it from his thoughts,a solution of the name's persistence flashed upon him. It had been usedby Dennison that day at the Polo Club. He had called it afterAshton-Kirk as they were leaving.

  "That's it!" was Bat's mute exclamation. "That's it. It was Dennison. Hewas telling us of how the Bounder said he was to meet some one--anoff-color party--Dennison thought,--to arrange a little matter ofbusiness. And the meeting was to be at Gaffney's."

  The big athlete thrilled at the idea. Was it possible that this obscureplace was the one meant? But why not? It was just the sort ofestablishment the Bounder would have selected for a meeting with a cronyof the underworld. And it was possible, too, that----

  "A friend of a friend of yours," said Bat, to the man at his side."Well, he might be all right, in spite of his looks."

  "He used to deal faro at Danforth's place on the avenue," said Big Slim."But he's down and out. Maybe," with another grin, "he tried the gamehimself."

  "Sometimes they do," said Bat. "But it's like opening the door of anelevator shaft and walking through."

  "He's great pals with a fellow named Fenton," said Big Slim. As he saidthis, one hand went to his coat pocket in a caressing sort of gesture;and Bat realized, with a ray of comprehension, that this was the pocketinto which the burglar had slipped the black, well-oiled automatic."They're like a couple of brothers."

  "I see," said Bat. "A league of two, eh? Well, that's nice. It makes ithandy for people who might want to see either of them. Find one andyou're sure of the other."

  Big Slim nursed the concealed weapon and grinned disagreeably.

  "Hutchinson's here," said he, "and so I'm sure Fenton'll be here. AndFenton's the party I want to meet up with."

  "I notice," observed Bat, with a downward nod, "that you are coddlingyour 'gat' some, and so I take it that this fellow Fenton and yourselfain't on good terms."

  "Right," said the burglar, readily. "A good guess. We ain't." He tookthe hand from the pocket and pointed to his swollen face. "It wasFenton done that," said he. "And it was him that almost done forBohlmier."

  The eyes of the big athlete blinked rapidly at this, and he wanted tolaugh! But he did not.

  "So!" said he. "I get you. It was Fenton who decorated you with that'shanty.' Well, well." He looked at the other speculatively and added:"But I thought you said it was dark. How did you know him?"

  "Who else would be hanging around there?" demanded Big Slim, almostsavagely. "Nobody else in the world."

  "Hanging around where?" asked Bat, innocently.

  Upon the point of replying, the burglar checked himself.

  "It don't make any difference where," he said. "I got this on him, allright." There was a pause between them for a few
moments, filled withthe click-click of the balls, the comments of the spectators and thefervent ejaculations of the players. Then Big Slim said, in an alteredtone: "Say, you put that thing over pretty slick on Allen that night atDuke Sheehan's; how'd you like to take on a job of slugging this guy?"

  "This Fenton party?"

  "Yes. He's bigger than I am--just as Allen was; and it'd be a bad chanceif I 'gunned' him."

  Scanlon realized instantly that if he refused the man's propositionthere would be a blur in their relationship, and this might prevent theunfolding of several things which he felt must be unfolded. So hereplied without hesitation:

  "Let's have a look at him, if he comes in."

  A table became vacant in the back room in a few minutes, and Bat and theburglar took possession of it. They had played for about a half hourwhen Big Slim, in a journey about the table, apparently to survey theballs from a new angle, said to Scanlon in a low tone:

  "Spot the fellow with the broken nose, talking to Hutchinson. That'shim."

  While the burglar sighted and prepared for a difficult shot, Bat tookoccasion to inspect the man in question. He had just entered and seemedrather breathless; a cap was fitted down upon his head; he wore noovercoat and his coat collar was turned up, while the garment wasbuttoned tightly about him. Though only about middle size, he wasstrongly built and had a rugged, enduring look. His one prominentfeature was his nose. This had been broken at some time or other andseemed absolutely boneless and flat.

  "I've got him," said Bat. "There's no two noses like that anywhere."

  Fenton talked rapidly to Hutchinson; he had the short-breathed, eagermanner of a man who bore tidings of an unusual nature; his gestureswere short and expressive of subconscious restraint The manager of thepool room stood listening, a look of stupefaction upon his face; and asBat watched, he put out his hand and touched the other as though toassure himself that the situation was a reality and not a thing of theimagination. Then he emerged from his dazed state, becoming immediatelyalert; he said something to Fenton in a quick, nervous sort of way, andthe man with the broken nose stopped at once in his eager career, yetwith all the indications remaining of one who ached to disburdenhimself.

  Hutchinson placed the care of the tables in the hands of a boy whoassisted him, and then went with Fenton to a far corner where thedisfigured one recommenced his interrupted communication.

  "That guy's lucky to get away with a plain beating," remarked Big Slim,as he chalked his cue. "For I got something on him--something strong."

  "That so?" said Scanlon, as he surveyed the array of balls on the tablewith a great deal of assumed attention.

  "Remember what I told you about the woman and the 'sparks' I meant tolift?"

  "Oh, yes," said Bat, without a quiver; "and the husband that beat you toit."

  "The husband was croaked that night," said Big Slim, tossing the chalkupon a near-by window ledge. "And Fenton is the guy who did it."