“It’s been your worst friend, Chi Kid — but I’ll send it back to Chicago with you. I’m going to ship you direct to the Big Noise himself, way-billed as a musical instrument.”
“Hell with that,” the gunman snarled. “Shoot your gun, stupid; I’m game.”
“Sit down over there,” Mart replied, indicating the wing chair. “You’ll get all the shooting you want before the night is over.
“Where’s Chimp?” he continued, turning to Speck.
“Out for a bite to eat; be right back,” the other replied without letting his eyes leave the form of Chi Kid. Almost with the words, however, a key turned in the lock and the door slammed. A second later, Chimp dashed into the room, blinking as the light rays stabbed at his eyes. Then he saw Mart in his pajamas, and lastly the Chi Kid guarded by Speck.
“Cripes, Mart!” he jubilated. “Youse gottim, hey? Now lissen, Big Fellow, don’t play aroun’ no more. Give it to him quick — like he give it to Dogs and Paddy.”
Mart raised his hand for quiet. Actually he was responding to Chimp’s suggestion, but his eyes bored into the Chi Kid’s as he said:
“Three times is out. That’s where you’re going tonight. But I’ve made you a promise, Chi Kid — and I’m going to keep it. I told you that no one but I had a right to kill you; that I’d give you a break with a rod in your hand. I still agree to that even though you’ve lost the right to hold me to my promise.”
“Jees, Mart — no!” Chimp and Speck shouted the words together.
“Yes!” Mart said and there was finality in his tone. “They say that Mart Farrell never broke his word after it once had been given. That won’t be changed. I’m going to send this rat to stew in hell — but he’s to have an equal chance at me.”
“Yer nuts!” Chimp exploded disgustedly. “Burn him down an’ call it a day.”
Mart’s reply was to turn back the rug from the polished floor and push two chairs into nearby corners. On one he laid the Chi Kid’s rod. His own weapon he put down on the other. Then he said:
“Here’s the rules. Speck keeps you covered. We both stand face to the wall. Chimp counts slowly as long as he wants to. When the time comes, whether at two or two hundred, he’ll say ‘Fire.’ Then we each turn, grab a rod and turn loose. I hope you like it in hell.”
Mart watched as the Chi Kid slipped from his chair and swaggered to the wall. He hated the ratty little killer as he never had hated anyone before, yet unwillingly he felt a surge of admiration for the businesslike manner in which Chi Kid accepted the duel.
Mart cast one last glance over the scene as his antagonist stood, facing in, against the wall; smiled grimly at Speck who stood out of the line of fire covering the Kid; then nodded to Chimp to begin the count. Then he too took his place.
“One!” Chimp’s voice quavered. “Two!” He was calmer now. “Three!” A pause. “Four” — “Five.” He was spacing the count properly now and Mart began swinging his body as he caught the cadence. “Six!” Still true to the time-beat!
“Seven!” The cadence had been lost and Mart caught the break between the syllables.
It was coming. Chimp, an inveterate crapshooter, believed in the luck of that numeral. The thoughts flashed like lightning but his muscles and nerves were coordinated — ready, balanced for the turn and slashing grasp for the gun butt — as Chimp barked “Fire!”
The following day a scarehcad appeared in the press.
The most powerful leader in the city, Mart Farrell, was found, early this morning, lying dead. Near him was the body of a dangerous killer who recently arrived from Chicago and whose movements have been watched ever since. The police broke into Farrell’s apartment when they heard shots. It was empty, except for the two bodies. The gunmen had evidently shot each other almost simultaneously. The eyes of both men had been shot out.
A few hours later Farrell’s gang was rounded up.
Writer’s Digest, September 1930
When the Climax Comes and the Lights are Flashed on, the Racketeer Must Find His Wrists Encircled in Handcuffs. While the Law Pants and is Proud of its Catch.
Before Mr. Volstead put over his celebrated law, crook stories and yarns dealing with a criminal hero never ended happily for the members of the underworld. It was a rule among writers to have the law come out on top at all times in such stories.
There was a mighty good reason for this. Editors demanded such stories because the highly-organized mobsters, racketeers and crooks of today didn’t exist before Prohibition; the public was accustomed to seeing the forces of law and order win over criminals in all stories where crime and the law were in conflict. And editors, being sound businessmen as well as judges of a good story, gave the public what it wanted.
But the coming of Prohibition changed that very quickly. Since booze was outlawed, and bootlegging made millionaires overnight of those who defied the law, highly-organized rackets of every conceivable type began to flourish as well.
Then a new type of crook story began to appear. The Big Time magazines featured them and the pulps soon followed suit. No longer did the crook or gangman inevitably “get his” in the climax! No longer did the forces of law and order “win out” in the denouement over the crooks, the criminals and thugs! The new type of crook story featured a mobster or a gang all through the tale, not only at odds with the public and with the law, but with other gangs or mobsters; and the crook hero or heroes of these tales won signal triumphs without being in any way punished for their lawlessness.
Mr. Harold Hersey published Gangster Stories and Racketeer Stories for a time with signal success. The authorities claimed that the stories in Mr. Hersey’s two lurid periodicals gave added impetus to crime and fostered criminals, and in New York City, particularly, his magazines were forbidden on the stands until he agreed to change them radically.
Hence Mr. Hersey’s new crook story periodicals will not feature gangs and crime triumphant in the future. The mobmen and criminals will not be permitted to come “out on top” any more!
And take Black Mask for example also: Erle Stanley Gardner, a very skillful and well-known writer of this type of fiction, had been exploiting a crook hero in a series in this magazine for a long time — “Ed Jenkins, the Phantom Crook.” Now Mr. Jenkins, if you will notice, is aiding the law in Mr. Gardner’s stories, and is aligned with it against mobmen and gangsters!
Some time ago, when it was an fait for the criminal to triumph over the law, I wrote a yarn of this type, in which my crook hero sensationally came out on top in the finish. It was submitted to Prize Detective Magazine and came back with a polite note from the editor. Mr. Mann stated: “In our stories, the crook can never win, therefore we can’t use your story in its present form.” So I made a simple revision of the climax, with a bit of a twist to it in which a member of the crook hero’s mob turned out unexpectedly to be a “dick,” and the crook hero “got his” plenty, instead of triumphing! And Mr. Mann took that story.
Fashions in fiction change with the times. When Prohibition came into being, it was orthodox and accepted technique to have crime punished in the ending of any story dealing with criminal leading protagonists. Then the wave of crime all over the country following the bootlegging racket exploitation by gunmen gave writers nifty new ideas for crook yarns, and a flood of sensational gangster stories swept these United States.