The Thubway Tham Megapack

by Johnston McCulley

  Not once did Tham turn and regard him. Tham calmly puffed at his cigarette until it was consumed, and then tossed the butt of it into the street. He thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and surveyed the street.

  And, from a few feet away, another man surveyed Thubway Tham, and he was not Craddock.

  With his coat thrust back, Tham revealed the pockets of his vest. From the edge of one of them protruded a fold of currency. The individual who stood a few feet away saw the edges of the bills, and a crafty gleam came into his eyes.

  Tham, his cigarette finished, whirled around and entered the subway. The stranger followed and so did Detective Craddock. Thubway Tham had no idea of attempting to lift a leather with Craddock watching him. He had decided to journey downtown, to the cheap lodging house operated by a former convict, where Tham had a room he called home. He would rest for a time, meanwhile reading the evening paper. And then he would go to some show, as he did on an average of once a month. It would be a good joke on Craddock after the detective had followed him all afternoon.

  Because his intentions for the remainder of the day were absolutely innocent, Thubway Tham was off guard, in a manner of speaking. When the downtown express roared into the station, Tham entered one of the cars, which happened to be jammed, and was obliged to catch hold of a strap. He sensed that Craddock had followed him, but did not turn around to see. He had no idea that he had been followed by another man.

  This third man was something of Tham’s ilk. He was small and dressed in modest clothing and wore a cap pulled well down over his eyes. His nose twitched nervously now and then. Had Tham looked at him, at the first glance he would have known the stranger for what he was—a crook of the cheaper class, a dope fiend.

  But Tham did not look at him. Tham was glancing through the windows, watching the lights of the intermediate stations past which the express roared, and thinking of the clipping.

  “Honor ith a funny thing thome timeth,” Tham told himself. “There are occathionth when a man thurely knowth the right thing to do. I hate a crooked crook worthe than I hate a fly cop, and that ith goin’ thome!”

  The train roared around a curve, and Tham lurched to one side. At the same instant the stranger lurched against him. Tham did not notice it, because he had stepped upon the foot of a woman seated before him, and he was in the act of apologizing as gracefully as he could—Tham was no ladies’ man.

  A harsh voice sounded in his ear, and suddenly Tham found himself the center of a scene. Detective Craddock was creating the disturbance, he discovered. Craddock had the stranger by the arm, and in no gentle manner.

  “This is rich!” Craddock said. “He nicked you for your roll, Tham, as we went around the curve. One crook robbing another, eh? That’s a good one on you, Tham.”

  “Thir?” Thubway Tham was bewildered for once.

  And then he saw that the stranger held some folded bills in his hand and that guilt was written on his face.

  “Lifted your coin easily while you lurched against him, Tham,” Craddock went on. “You’ll have to appear against him, of course. This will be the joke of the year. New one, I guess. I don’t know his mug—and he wouldn’t have tried it on you if he had been wise.”

  It flashed through Thubway Tham’s mind that Craddock spoke the truth. Some sixth sense told him not to feel in his vest pocket, but he recognized the folded bills, which the thief had not had a chance to slip in to his own pocket.

  His mind worked like a flash. Here was where the honor stuff came in. This other man had made a mistake. Undoubtedly he was a “dip” new to the city. It was his misfortune that he had tried to rob one of the same profession.

  And Craddock was grinning gleefully. Craddock, watching one pickpocket, had caught another. And he would have Tham as a witness, make him give testimony against one of his kind.

  Then Tham’s flashing mind saw a way out, and he was thankful that he had not felt in his pocket.

  “Craddock, you thilly ath, what ith thith all about?” he demanded suddenly.

  “He nicked you for your roll, Tham. There it is in his hand. I saw him—just as you lurched.”

  “Thome mithtake,” Tham muttered. He glanced at the other pickpocket and then looked Craddock straight in the eye. “Thome mithtake,” he repeated. “That ith prethithly what I do thay. I didn’t have any roll.”

  “What’s that? I tell you that I saw him—”

  “Thome mithtake, I thay. I ain’t had that much coin for thome month, Craddock.”

  “You mean to stand there and tell me that he didn’t touch you—that it isn’t your coin he’s holding in his fist this minute?” the detective demanded.

  “That ith precithly what I do thay,” Tham declared. “Maybe he already had the coin in hith hand when he fell againtht me. That ain’t my coin, Craddock. I didn’t have that much on me. All I’ve got ith thome change in my panth pocket.”

  Again their eyes clashed. Detective Craddock knew very well that the stranger had touched Thubway Tham. But what would it avail him to make the charge if Tham denied that the money was his? Nobody else had seen the stranger’s hand make that quick, precise drop and come away from Tham’s pocket with the folded bills.

  “Tham—” Craddock began.

  “Aw, cut it!” the stranger growled. “This is my own coin. I was just goin’ to count it to see how much I’d spent. I didn’t touch him. Didn’t he say I didn’t? Cut it!”

  Craddock glared at Tham and stepped back, and the stranger put Tham’s money into one of his pockets. “Fresh cops always thinkin’ they see things,” he muttered.

  Tham grinned as he turned away. The excitement had died down as quickly as it had started. The few who had heard what had passed were glaring at Detective Craddock and remarking that fly cops should not accuse men unjustly just to make a showing.

  Tham was thinking rapidly. He had acted on his sense of honor. He had saved a fellow worker who had made a little mistake. That was honor as he saw it for the time being. The other man would be grateful, no doubt.

  But the point of it was that Tham wanted to regain his money, and Craddock was there. He had denied that the currency was his, and he scarcely could claim it now from the other pickpocket, with Craddock looking on.

  He turned around, saw that Craddock was but a few feet away, and moved back to join him. “That certainly wath a mithtake,” Tham said. “I—”

  “I know what kind of a mistake it was, all right,” Craddock interrupted. “He made a mistake in robbing a fellow crook.”

  “My goodneth, Craddock, why do you perthitht?” Thubway Tham was eager to learn. “Believe me, if that wath my coin I would have made a holler. I would have made a double holler, me bein’ touched by a freth dip working in the thubway.”

  Craddock looked at Tham closely and was almost convinced. He knew that Tham considered the subway his particular ground and that all the regular crooks in the city so regarded it. He looked at the stranger again and convinced himself that he did not know him, and never seen his photograph in the rogues’ gallery.

  “Maybe I did make a mistake, Tham,” he said.

  “I thould thay tho!”

  “But it certainly looked—”

  “It wath jutht the train lurchin’ around that curve,” said Tham. “It alwayth throwth a man off hith balanth. They ought to fith that curve.”

  “I’m sick of following you around, Tham. Give me your word that you will try to lift no leather during the remainder of the day, and I’ll get off at the next station.”

  “It ith not nethethary,” Tham declared, “but I give my word.”

  “Of honor?”

  “Yeth, thir—word of honor.”

  “Very well, Tham. You never break your word; I’ll say that much for you.”

  At the next station Craddock left the train. Thubway Tham thereupon moved toward the stranger, but with difficulty, since the car was so crowded. The train came to the next stop, and the stranger prepared to leave the car. So did Thubw
ay Tham.

  He made every effort to attract the other’s attention, but with no success. Tham supposed that the stranger was afraid to speak to him now or pretend to see him. So he waited until the train stopped, and followed the other man to the platform and up the steps to the street.

  It became evident that the stranger was not going to loiter and give Thubway Tham the chance to pass close by him and receive his money. That caused Tham to worry a bit. He quickened his pace and overtook the other at a corner.

  “Thay—” he began.

  “Well?”

  “Thuppoth you come through now. There ith no cop watchin’.”

  “I don’t getcha,” the stranger said.

  “I want my roll,” Tham explained. “If it hadn’t been for me you’d be in the jug thith minute. Lucky for you that you touched a dip with that ath of a Detective Craddock thtandin’ right behind you. It juth happened that you got away with it.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yeth,” said Tham.

  “So you’re a dip, are you?”

  “You heard Craddock thay tho, didn’t you? I am Thubway Tham.”

  Tham supposed that announcement would be enough, but it was not.

  “Tham?” queried the stranger. “Never heard of you.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Chicago, where there are real dips,” was the reply.

  “Ith that tho? If it hadn’t been for me you’d be in jail right now. Real dipth? My goodneth! Your work wath coarthe.”

  “Was it? I got your roll, all right, didn’t I?”

  “Be that ath it may,” said Tham. “Thuppoth you hand it back.”

  “Hand it back? Not any!”

  “What ith that?”

  “You told that fly cop it wasn’t your roll, didn’t you? Very well, old-timer!”

  Tham looked his scorn. “What thort of man are you?” he demanded. “Ain’t you got any thenth of honor? My goodneth! You won’t latht long in thith town, boy, if you act like that.”

  “I guess I can take care of myself with you New York boobs!”

  Tham’s face flared with sudden anger. He loved the subway, his profession, and New York. And here was a man from Chicago—

  “Thay, you have had your merry jetht, tho now come acroth with my currenthy,” Thubway Tham demanded. “It would have therved you right if you had been thent up!”

  “You told that cop it wasn’t your money, didn’t you?”

  “Yeth—to thave your hide, you ath!”

  “I suppose you lifted it yourself?”

  “That ith neither here nor there,” said Tham. “If you have a thenth of honor—”

  “You make me laugh!” the stranger said, lighting a cigarette and flicking the burned match toward the middle of the street. “Sense of honor, huh? In this business?”

  “Don’t I get the coin?”

  “It isn’t yours—you said as much,” declared the man from Chicago. He laughed again and hurried across the street before Thubway Tham, in his amazement, could make a move.

  As soon as he came to himself Tham followed, anger surging within him. He had saved that man from a term in prison, and in return he had lost money that he had risked liberty to get. Was there no longer honor among thieves?

  But Tham was determined. He would get that money, all right. He would follow the man from Chicago, see where he went, ascertain his name, either talk him out of the money or call upon certain friends to aid him in getting it. As for the man from Chicago—there was no place in the local underworld for one so uncognizant of honor and self-respect.

  Tham had difficult work catching up with him. The man ahead turned into a busy street and plowed his way through the crowd, and Tham went after him as quickly as he could. Tham was angry for the first time in weeks—really angry. He had followed his better instincts, had remembered his sense of honor, and had been stung. He had found the serpent beneath the rose, the cur that bit the hand that fed it.

  His quarry turned into a cheap resort that once had been a corner saloon of ill repute and still retained the character, though it was a saloon no longer. Thubway Tham followed. The man from Chicago had met another stranger and they were talking together.

  “Gave me a laugh,” the man from Chicago was saying. “Saved me from the bull and then expected to get the coin back. I told him to be on his way. Said his name was Thubway Tham.”

  “And that same bird stands high in these parts,” his companion said. “You’d better look him up and hand over that coin right away. He’ll pass the word and every crook in town will be down on us.”

  “I should worry!” the man from Chicago declared. “Afraid of these New York crooks, are you?”

  “It’s their town and it might pay us to be decent while we’re in it.”

  Tham overheard the conversation and waited. This other fellow seemed to have something like a sense of honor, and perhaps he finally would persuade the man from Chicago to relent.

  And then Thubway Tham beheld coming through the door another headquarters detective of his acquaintance, Murphy by name. Murphy was supposed to be a sort of expert on visiting crooks. He made a study of the pictures in the rogues’ gallery.

  Tham stepped back toward the end of the counter, since he did not want to attract Murphy’s attention. But Murphy was not looking for Tham, evidently. He glanced around the place, and he saw the man from Chicago.

  “I want to see you a minute, and possibly longer, Slim Gooch,” Murphy said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Headquarters!”

  “You ain’t got anything on me. I just hit town this morning to get a job.”

  “You wouldn’t hold the best job in the world,” Murphy informed him. “I know your face and your record.”

  “But I just hit town. You haven’t anything on me. And they don’t want me in Chicago; either.”

  “Kindly get it through your head that you are a suspect because of your record,” Murphy said.

  “So this is the regular shake-down, is it? Well, get busy, then.”

  “Um!” Murphy grunted. “Mere matter of form, Gooch. You see, there was a little job in the subway this afternoon, and you’re a dip. We’re just looking over the dips we meet.”

  “Want me to stand a search, do you?” Gooch sneered. “I’ve got some coin on me, all right, but it’s mine—and it’s all bills. You must be some bird if you can identify a bill. Here’s my roll—and you can go ahead and search.”

  “I’ll look at the roll first,” Murphy said.

  He opened the folded bills and inspected them closely. “Where did you get this coin?” he asked.

  “Brought it with me from Chicago. Expense money.”

  “Weak tale,” Murphy said, grinning. “This is some of the stuff that was nicked in the subway this afternoon. Your first day in our city is going to cost you something, Gooch.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Rats! This coin was being carried by a man who intended trying to trap a couple of blackmailers. Every bill, Gooch, is marked—a little, peculiar mark in the corner. When his pocket was picked, he reported to us—and we’ve been rounding up dips the last hour and going through them. This is once, Gooch, when currency can be identified. Tough for you, all right!”

  * * * *

  Thubway Tham had darted behind two men entering from the street and was on his way. He was chuckling. He relished his close escape. If this Gooch had not robbed him, he would have had those bills in his pocket. He might have been searched, and then— Or, if this Gooch had been an honest crook and had returned the money—

  “No two wayth about it,” said Thubway Tham to nobody in particular. “It payth to have a thenth of honor. If that Gooth had had a thenth of honor he would not be on hith way to the hoothgow now. Ath it ith, he hath a thteady job ahead of him!”

  Thubway Tham lighted a cigarette and walked happily toward the cheap lodging house he called home.

  Contents

  COPYRIGHT INFOr />
  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  The MEGAPACK™ Ebook Series

  THUBWAY THAM, FASHION PLATE

  THUBWAY THAM’S DOG

  THUBWAY THAM TUNES IN

  THUBWAY THAM’S HONESTY

  THUBWAY THAM’S HOODOO ROLL

  THUBWAY THAM’S OPERATION

  THUBWAY THAM’S CURIOSITY

  THUBWAY THAM MEETS A GIRL

  THUBWAY THAM’S ENGAGEMENT

  THUBWAY THAM GOES TO THE RACES

  THUBWAY THAM’S RAFFLE TICKET

  THUBWAY THAM’S SENSE OF HONOR

  THUBWAY THAM’S INSANE MOMENT

  THUBWAY THAM’S THANKSGIVING DINNER

  THUBWAY THAM’S UNDERSTUDY

  THUBWAY THAM’S BAGGAGE CHECK

  THUBWAY THAM, PHILANTHROPIST

  THUBWAY THAM’S CHRITHTMATH

  THUBWAY THAM’S GLORIOUS FOURTH

  THUBWAY THAM’S HOLDUP

  THUBWAY THAM AND MR. CLACKWORTHY

  THUBWAY THAM’S INTHULT

  HAS WORSE LUCK THAN “THUBWAY THAM”

  THUBWAY THAM’S INSANE MOMENT

  Detective Craddock stepped nearer the front of the little cigar store on the corner and almost pressed his nose against the window as he glanced inside. There was an expression of bewilderment on the countenance of the detective. His eyes bulged and then narrowed to two tiny slits as if he was considering something highly unusual and wondering just what it might mean. His lower jaw drooped and then came up again with a snap, expressing determination. To “get the goat” of Detective Craddock, who was a terror to those of the underworld, it was necessary only to attempt to “put something over” on him.

  And Detective Craddock was not absolutely certain, of course, but he feared that a certain person was attempting to put something over on him now. And, to make matters worse, that certain person was no less a personage than Thubway Tham.

  Thubway Tham was a clever pickpocket, one of the cleverest in the business, and he worked only in the subway during rush hours. He long ago had earned the name in the underworld of Subway Sam. And because, lisping, he called himself “Thubway Tham,” everybody else did the same.