“I guess that’ll hold you fellows for a while,” said the Wolf.
Going back to the flivver, Kerrigan noticed that Phelps was beginning to display signs of life. So the little agent grabbed the latter by the collar and dragged him into the deserted house.
Shortly after eleven thirty, Connolley, fearing that something had happened to his side-kick, put in an appearance. Seeing the candlelights in the front room of the farmhouse, he walked in, to find Kerrigan holding an animated conversation with his desperate-looking captive.
“Would you mind going out to the back of the house, Ray, and bringing in those two eggs who are tied to the trees? They’ll probably find it a little warmer in here.”
Ten minutes later the three prisoners were lined up before the two agents.
“What’s the idea of selling me fake dope?” asked Kerrigan of the trio. “I’m a narcotic agent and came up here to catch you with the real stuff.”
“I was just thinkin’,” was the answer, “that you ain’t got a thing on us. We didn’t sell you real dope.”
“Is that so,” shot back Kerrigan. “Well, listen to this: I didn’t give you real dough, either. It’s all counterfeit stuff, seized by other Federal men in raids. We use it on guys like you.”
“Well, we’re even then,” said the man in brown.
“The hell we are,” said the Wolf. “I’m taking the three of you in for the sample of real stuff that you sold to me in New York last night!”
The Second Message
by J. Lane Linklater
Hugo Oakes passes up some big money to solve the mystery of the broken lantern...
I
Hugo Oakes was leaning back in his chair comfortably. He was trying to roll a cigarette, but not succeeding very well. Most of the tobacco had already trickled down on his wrinkled and bespotted vest. Yet he seemed vastly pleased.
The papers on the desk in front of him may have had something to do with his mood; he had been retained as the legal representative of a wealthy gentleman named Markum, whose carelessness had involved him with the law. Money! Big money!
His short, fat body heaved and he sighed a satisfied sigh. Then he turned to his stenographer, who had a desk in a corner of the same dingy office room.
“Mamie,” said Oakes, “we got to work hard to-day on this Markum case. Can’t lose no time.”
Oakes was capable of magnificent eloquence in a court room speech, but elsewhere he talked as if he had studied English in the back room of a district police station.
“And, Mamie, I ain’t going to let no penniless bum interrupt me, either.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mamie, very seriously.
“What’s more, Mamie, I ain’t never going to let no poverty stricken fool that gets himself into trouble waste my time. I’m off this charity stuff forever.”
“Yes, sir.”
Oakes pounded the desk.
“No. From now on I got to see the cash before I lift a little finger. Cash in advance, Mamie. No exceptions. Now we’ll get busy on this Markum case. And if any one comes butting in—”
The door was opened. Rather, it flew open. A young man was standing in the doorway.
He was quite a young man, not much over twenty. A rather undersized young man, whose bow tie was twisted to an almost vertical position, whose hand trembled on the doorknob, and whose eyes were wide with agitation.
Oakes glared at him indignantly. The young man closed the door, and hurried in.
“Mr. Oakes?” he inquired.
“Yeah. But I’m busy.”
“It’s awful important, Mr. Oakes.”
The young man’s voice was rising, until it was almost shrill.
“Important! Huh! It may be important to yon, young feller, but to me—”
“The cops are after me,” blurted out the young man.
Oakes began to roll another cigarette. He shifted uneasily in his chair.
“Cops or no cops,” he objected vigorously, “I’m busy, and I can’t be bothered—”
“They’re after me!” the young man repeated.
“Well, why come to me?”
“I read about you in the papers—”
“Have you got any money?”
“Why, no, sir, but—”
“Then get out,” said Hugo Oakes.
The young man looked at him, despairingly, his mouth open.
“But they’re after me,” he insisted. “I called up home not long ago, and found out — they’re after me.”
“What for?”
“Murder.”
“Well, you shouldn’t commit murder — not unless you got money.”
“I didn’t,” the young man protested.
“Another innocent victim of circumstances,” Oakes sneered. “What’s your name?”
“Larry — Larry Deronda.”
“Who got killed?”
“Mr. Lanyon. Sydney Lanyon.”
In spite of himself, Oakes looked interested.
“Lanyon, eh? Big theatrical guy, ain’t he?”
“A big bum,” exploded Larry Deronda.
“Well, I guess he is by this time,” Oakes grinned. “Where did he get killed?”
“Out on the county highway, near the Broken Lantern.”
“Broken Lantern? Who busted it?”
“That’s a road house, Mr. Oakes. Called the Broken Lantern. There’s another road house right across the highway from it called the Blue Plume. They found Lanyon on the road outside the Broken Lantern.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, about three o’clock this morning, sir. Maybe a little before.”
“What was Lanyon doing out there at three o’clock this morning?”
“He was with my sister, Myrtle.”
“Ah! And what was your sister doing out there at three o’clock this morning?”
“Why, she — Sis was a waitress in the Broken Lantern. She works until two in the morning. Lanyon called for her when she got off work, and took her across the road to the Blue Plume.”
“Lanyon was sweet on your sister, was he?”
Larry Deronda screwed up his face as if he was about to weep.
“He... he was a dirty liar, Mr. Oakes. He claimed he was going to put Sis on the stage, and all that hooey. But he... he—”
“You mean his intentions weren’t honorable?”
“Sure. I mean he was a dirty skunk.”
Apparently Oakes had completely forgotten that he was very busy on the Markum case. He leaned across the desk, and let his half-rolled cigarette drop on the floor.
“Now, Larry, what were you doing out on the county highway at three o’clock in the morning?”
Larry Deronda flushed.
“I... I was watching them, Mr. Oakes. I was afraid something might happen to Sis. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. So I went out there to watch them.”
“Tut, tut! Spying on your own sister! Did you see anything?”
“Not much, sir. There’s a field on one side of the Blue Plume. I was in the field, looking through a side window. Sis and Lanyon were sitting at a table. Then a waiter came up and gave a message to Sis. Pretty soon she got up and walked out. She walked across the highway toward the Broken Lantern. Then, in few minutes, the waiter went to the table again and gave Lanyon a message, and he got up and went out, too.”