The Thubway Tham Megapack

by Johnston McCulley

  “I’m goin’ to walk on down the street to the next corner,” said Shifty Shane. “I can watch you work from there. After you make the getaway, we’ll meet where I said, and you can tell your little story. Understand?”

  “I grathp you,” Tham said again.

  Without another word, Shifty Shane left the alley and walked briskly down the street like a belated pedestrian hur­rying to his home and family. Thub­way Tham watched until he knew that Shane had secluded himself in the dark­ness there, and then he glanced up the street in the opposite direction, from whence his victim was to come.

  “Thilly ath of a thtunt!” Tham told himself. “It ith no he-man’th game at all! It ith takin’ advantage. No man ith goin’ to thtart a row when an­other hath a gun on him. I thould thay not!”

  Pedestrians did not appear to be numerous. Thubway Tham watched the walk carefully. There were two or three places between the alley and the corner where shafts of light cut across the walk, and Tham knew he would have a chance to estimate his man as he walked by those streaks of light.

  After a time, he saw a man coming from the car line. He was a large-sized man, and held packages in his arms, and walked with a swinging stride. Thubway Tham observed him closely. And then, he told himself, he “had a hunch.”

  Tham couldn’t explain the hunch, but he declared to himself that it was not a case of common fear. However, he retreated into the alley until he was in pitch darkness and could not be seen from the walk, and there he crouched while the man went by and continued on his way. Then he went back to the mouth of the alley.

  The thought came to Thubway Tham that perhaps he had been a fool. Shifty Shane, watching at the lower corner, had seen that man pass—evidently a prosperous gentleman hurrying home, with his arms full of bundles. What better incentive for a holdup man?

  He feared that Shifty Shane might laugh at him and demand an explana­tion. Shane might even accuse him of cowardice.

  “I gueth I’ll have to get the next man,” Tham told himself, and kept a close watch.

  In time, another man came rapidly down the walk. Thubway Tham affixed the mask Shifty Shane had given him, and took Shane’s revolver from his pocket.

  “Aw, it ith eathy!” Tham told him­self.

  He crouched just at the corner of the alley wall. He waited until his victim was the proper distance away. And then he sprang out suddenly and threw up his revolver.

  “Put ’em up!” he commanded gruffly.

  Then Thubway Tham happened upon one of those surprises that disconcert a holdup man. The victim’s hands came up—but one of them came up shooting!

  Often during his life, Thubway Tham had been surprised, as upon the day, years before, when he had been caught taking a watch from a man’s pocket. But never before had he been so astonished as he was now. The victim was no craven who would ac­cept the word of a holdup man that he must give up his money or his life. This victim was not acting according to the code.

  Thubway Tham gave a screech and dived into the welcome, black mouth of the alley. He heard the shout of his intended victim that he halt or take the consequences. But Thubway Tham did not think of halting.

  He shed the mask as he ran, and he dropped Shifty Shane’s weapon. Thubway Tham was a little man, and had speed; but he did not run this night—he flew. Somehow, it never occurred to him to shoot in return. Being a pickpocket and nothing more, he never had resorted to weapons and was not familiar with them. He did not even know whether he was a good shot, and he did not intend finding out by firing at a target that fired in reply.

  Down the dark alley he dashed, thankful that Shifty Shane had shown him the getaway route. Behind him spoke the revolver of the man who had been picked as victim. He was pursu­ing, and still was calling upon Thubway Tham to halt or take the consequences.

  Tham did not intend to do either if it could be avoided. He came to a low fence Shifty Shane had designated, vaulted it, ran through a rear yard and so reached a dark street. He doubled back toward the main street, keeping in the shadows. His heart was pound­ing at his ribs, his breath was coming in gasps, and he was trying now to run noiselessly. He doubted whether he fever would gain the rendezvous, but he did. There he rested, panting, and waited for Shane.

  “It wath a thilly trick!” he muttered. “It therveth me jutht right! It ith a kid’th trick thtickin’ up a man like that, and nobody but a coward would do it!”

  Ten minutes later Shifty Shane put in an appearance.

  “Well, Tham, as a holdup man, you’re a bird!” he declared. “I’d have been here sooner, but I had to stop and laugh five or ten minutes. Under­stand?”

  “Tho?” said Thubway Tham. “It wath no time to laugh.”

  “You must have gone at him like a rank amateur, boy. You must have given him plenty of time to bring his artillery up from the rear.”

  “He didn’t need any time,” Thubway Tham replied. “He theemed to be expectin’ it and to be ready.”

  “How about that hundred, old boy?”

  “Here it ith,” said Tham, handing it over. “It ith no man’th game, any­way, thtickin’ up another man.”

  “I guess you know now that it takes nerve, all right.”

  “Maybe tho,” said Tham. “You wait until tomorrow noon when you try to lift a wallet. You’ll know what taketh nerve, then!”

  IV.

  The following morning, Thubway Tham found himself still angry and a trifle frightened. It was no great pleasure to have a man empty a re­volver at you, and at the same time pursue you with the intention of effect­ing a capture and sending you to prison for a long term.

  “What a thimp I wath!” Tham told himself, as he dressed. “And it cotht me jutht a hundred dollarth to find out that I wath a thimp.”

  Then he remembered his other bar­gain with Shifty Shane, and smiled.

  “Here ith where I get thquare with him,” Tham mused. “He can never lift a wallet and get away with it in a thouthand yearth. Here ith where I get hith goat!”

  Tham met Shifty Shane, as per ar­rangement, in a certain restaurant and after they had breakfasted they got down to business.

  “Still lookin’ a little white around the gills,” Shifty Shane told him.

  “Yeth? You wait!” said Tham.

  “I’m not worryin’ any about this stunt, old-timer. Snitchin’ a wallet is about the easiest thing in the world, if you ask me. It’s a kid’s job, all right for a youngster just breakin’ in—that’s all. Nothin’ easier.”

  “Jutht you wait,” Tham told him. “Now you let me give you thome advithe. When you get into a crowded car, firtht pick your man. Get one who lookth ath if he had a fat wallet and who lookth ath if he had hith mind on buthineth or thomethin’ like that.”

  “You’re wastin’ time, boy. I don’t need advice.”

  “You better lithten jutht the thame,” Tham told him. “Get a man who carrieth hith wallet in a hip pocket, if you can find one. There ith a few boobth like that thtill left on earth, and motht of them are in New York. Jutht ath you get to a thtation, bruth againtht him and do your work. Be thure nobody elthe theeth you. If there ith a roar, drop the wallet the firtht thing. Thee?”

  “I knew all that thtuff when I wath two yearth old,” said Shifty Shane, de­liberately mocking Thubway and there­by incurring a measure of sudden ha­tred.

  “If you are one of thethe birdth that can’t learn anything, I have no more to thay!” Tham told him angrily.

  They completed their arrangements and appointed another rendezvous, and then they left the restaurant, Shifty Shane following a short distance behind Thubway Tham.

  Tham wanted Shane to fail; he wanted the hundred dollars back; but he did not want a fellow criminal to be caught—not because he loved this particular fellow criminal, but because he was against the police first, last and always. So he watched to make sure that no detective he knew trailed them.

  Tham saw nobody who appeared to be dangerous to their liberty, and therefore, after a t
ime, he led the way into a subway entrance near City Hall.

  They boarded an uptown train that was jammed with passengers, and squeezed into a car. Thubway Tham got a short distance from Shifty Shane and prepared to watch him work. A glance showed him that no officer he knew was in the car.

  It happened that a prosperous-look­ing gentleman stood at Shifty Shane’s elbow. He looked like the sort of man who would carry a well-filled wallet, and he seemed to be thinking of busi­ness affairs or something equally en­grossing. Shifty Shane got as near as possible to his intended victim. He had decided to lift the wallet at the first station. By pressing against the man’s body, he could feel a wallet in a hip pocket.

  Shifty turned his head, and from his eyes to those of Thubway Tham there flashed a message. Tham relayed one back to the effect that he was wise, had his eyes open, and would watch Shifty’s work.

  Shane turned around again. He knew that the train would be at the station in a moment. Some of the pas­sengers were preparing to squeeze to­ward the door.

  Then Shifty Shane felt a lump come into his throat. He had declared that lifting a wallet was child’s play, but he did not think it now. He imagined a thousand things that might happen as soon as he made the attempt. Terror shook him; he wondered whether Thub­way Tham guessed what he was ex­periencing.

  Tham did. He had experienced something similar, in years long past, when he had lifted his first wallet. He knew what Shifty Shane was feeling.

  The train pulled into the station and stopped. The victim left the car, and so did Shifty Shane, and so did Thub­way Tham. The latter followed Shane to the street, and spoke to him one block away, when he was certain that he was not being observed.

  “Get a fat one?” Tham asked.

  “Couldn’t work it,” Shane explained, wiping the perspiration from his fore­head. “I had that bird all ready to pluck, and the last second he happened to turn and look me straight m the eyes.”

  “That ith tough luck,” said Tham. He knew that Shane was telling a false­hood. “I thuppothe you’ll have to try again. You go ahead and I’ll be right behind.”

  Shane walked several blocks down the street. He didn’t want to go into the subway again. He told himself that a man should stick to his own trade. Why had he been such a fool as to make that wager with Thubway Tham?

  But he couldn’t get out of it now, Tham had done his part, and Shifty Shane would have to do his or prove himself a craven. He gathered his courage and plunged into the subway entrance nearest him.

  Thubway Tham followed. Shane caught a downtown train, and Tham got into the car behind him and went down the aisle a short distance. Then he turned arount to watch Shifty Shane, and, instead, faced Detective Craddock!

  “My goodneth! Here you are again!” Tham said, to hide his sudden terror.

  “Walked right in, didn’t you?” Crad­dock asked. “Sorry you turned and saw me—probably would have caught you if you hadn’t.”

  Craddock bent close and whispered the words. Thub­way Tham turned an innocent face toward him.

  “I give you my word of honor,” he said, “that when I got on thith train I had no idea of—er—workin’.”

  “That right, Tham?”

  “Yeth, thir!”

  “I suppose I’ll have to believe you—you always keep your word. But it makes me a trifle nervous to see you in a crowded subway car, Tham, old boy.”

  “I wath uptown, and had to get down­town, didn’t I?” Tham asked. “You can thearch me, and you can watch me—”

  “Not necessary just now, Tham,” said Craddock, grinning. “I don’ think you’ll try anything while I’m standing at your side.”

  “That would not thtop me if I wanted to work,” Tham said. “But I do not want to work.”

  “Say!” Craddock exclaimed. “What does this sudden reformation mean? You didn’t work yesterday, and you aren’t today. Fallen heir to a fortune, or something like that?”

  “No, thir. I am jutht behavin’ mythelf,” Thubway Tham told him.

  During this conversation with De­tective Craddock, Tham had been ob­serving Shifty Shane. The latter had picked a victim, and Tham knew by his manner that he intended making a genuine attempt this time. And Crad­dock, the particular foe of all pick­pockets of the city, was in the car.

  Tham continued the conversation, and meanwhile his wits were at work. He didn’t want Craddock to catch Shifty Shane, who would not even turn around so that he could be given a signal. Moreover, Shane knew Crad­dock. If he turned and saw Craddock, he would be saved; if he did not—

  Tham knew that the train was nearing a station and that Shifty Shane would make the attempt. If he suc­ceeded everything would be all right, but if he bungled the job there would be an uproar. Craddock was standing within fifteen feet of Shifty Shane.

  Thubway Tham replied to the detec­tive’s questions carefully, and tried to think of a way of saving Shane, but he could not. He began to have a great fear that Shane was going to bungle the job. He had another “hunch.” Turn­ing his face away from Shane and to­ward Craddock, he began talking hard, getting all the detective’s attention.

  “I want a good job,” he said. “I want to go thtraight, but you copth won’t let me. You know how old I am. I am almotht forty.”

  “Slowing up, are you, and want to get out of the game?” Craddock asked. “I know what you’re trying to do, Tham. You’re trying to turn straight so I’ll never realize my ambition. You’re getting scared of me.”

  “My goodneth! If I am thcared of you, I mutht be a poor thtick!” Tham told him. “You ain’t got thuch a rec­ord. I thaid what I thaid, and it wath the truth. I did not thuppothe you’d believe it. Ath!”

  Craddock laughed lightly. At the same moment, the train slowed down for the station. Tham did not look toward Shifty Shane; he kept his blaz­ing eyes on Craddock’s face and held his gaze. But Thubway Tham was almost praying.

  The train stopped; the doors slid open.

  “I mean to thay—” Tham began.

  A sudden bedlam interrupted him.

  “Pickpocket! Thief!” shrieked some woman near the door­way.

  Thubway Tham experienced mingled emotions. That cry meant that Shifty Shane had failed, for which Tham was glad; but it meant also that Shane was in grave danger, for which Tham was sorry.

  Craddock gripped him by the arm and whirled to look. Tham looked, too. There was a turmoil in the door­way and on the station platform. People entering the car and people, try­ing to leave were colliding. Tham saw that Shifty Shane had darted away from danger and was walking slowly toward the exit.

  Taking Tham along with him, Crad­dock thrust through the crowd to the door.

  “I saw him reaching in that gentle­man’s pocket,” a woman was declaring. “He took out a purse—there it is on the floor. He turned through the door and into the crowd. He was a big, blond man—”

  Tham felt relieved. The woman had made the mistake nine persons out of ten will make after one hurried glance—had given a wrong description. Shifty Shane was an ordinary-sized man and had black hair.

  Craddock took names and addresses and announced that he would make a report. The gentleman regained his wallet. Then Craddock went out on the platform with Thubway Tham, and the train roared on.

  “He made a getaway, I suppose,” Craddock said. “I’ll get blazes for this. Tham, did you see any pickpocket in that car? I want the truth!”

  “I give you my word of honor,” said Thubway Tham, “that I thaw no dip on that car!”

  He meant it, and Craddock knew that he meant it. For Thubway Tham did not consider Shane a dip, but a hold­up man.

  “And I thuppothe that it ith a mighty good thing for me that I wath away from that door and talkin’ to you,” he continued. “It ith a wonder you do not accuthe me.”

  “No chance this time, Tham.”

  “Maybe you’d better thearch me at that,” Tham said.

  “Aw, shut up!” Craddock exclaimed. He led
the way to the street, and there he turned and contemplated Thubway Tham again.

  “I’m getting mighty sick of this busi­ness!” he declared. “If it wasn’t for the hope of catching you one of these days, I’d quit the force and get a differ­ent job.”

  “You mad about thomething?” Tham wanted to know.

  “I’ll make this report and get bawled out because I didn’t catch that fellow, and the boss never will take into con­sideration that there was a big crowd and that the dip was out on the plat­form and away before that fool woman screeched.”

  “Well, it ith all in the game,” Tham said.

  “I’m getting a bit sick of the game. A man takes his life in his hands—”

  “Well, my goodneth! How could a man take hith life in hith handth in a cathe like that?” Thubway Tham asked. “And you know, you thimp, that no regular dip carrieth a gun, anyway.”

  “Aw, shut up! I’m not talking about that just now. I almost got mine last night.”

  “How wath that?”

  “There’ve been a lot of holdups re­cently in a certain district and I went down there last night to try to get a line on somebody. I was ready for action, too. The stickup man sprang on me, and I came up shooting. But he didn’t have any nerve. He ducked through an alley and made a getaway—didn’t even shoot back. If he had I might have got mine.”

  “My goodneth!” Tham gasped. “Where was all thith?”

  Craddock told him—and Thubway Tham knew.

  * * * *

  Three-quarters of an hour later, Tham collected one hundred dollars from a trembling Shifty Shane.

  “Every man to hith job,” Tham told him, “You leave the thubway to me and go right ahead thtickin’ up pedethianth. Thee? I knew you’d fall down.”

  “Well, you fell down last night!” Shane retorted.

  “There wath a differenthe,” Thub­way Tham told him. “That man I tackled latht night—I recognized him jutht ath I told him to hold up hith handth. He wath Detective Craddock, and you know that he ith after me. If you don’t believe it you look in the evenin’ paperth—they all thay how Craddock al­motht caught a holdup man at that alley. Tho I had a reathon!”