Traffic In Souls Part 21

special ye kin send me on?"

"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy."

The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in grat.i.tude.

"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right here."

"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see you next. I don't want any b.u.ms working for me."

The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little machine. Then he admitted the next caller.

"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been working pretty well, so Shepard tells me. What about his row the other night? I thought that girl was sure."

"Well, Mr. Clemm, ye see, we had it fixed all right, an' some foxy gink blows in wid a taxi an' lifts de dame right from outen Shepard's mit!

De slickest getaway I ever seen. I don't know wot 'is game is, but he sure made some getaway, an' we never even got a smell at 'im."

"Who was with you on the deal? Who did the come-on?"

"Oh, pretty Baxter. You knows, w'en dat boy hands 'em de goo-goo an'

wiggles a few Tangoes he's dere wid both feet! But dis girl was back on de job ag'in in her candy store next day. But Baxter'll git 'er yit. Shepard's pullin' dis t'eayter manager bull, so he'll git de game yet."

"Did her folks get wise?"

"Naw, not as we kin tell. Shepard he seen her once after she left de store. De trouble is 'er sister woiks in de same place. We got ter git dat girl fired, and den it'll be easy goin'. De goil gits home widout de sister findin' out about it, she tells Shepard. I don't quite pipe de dope on dis b.u.t.t-in guy. But he sure spoiled Shepard's beauty fer a week. Dere's only one t'ing I kin suspect."

"All right, shoot it. You know I'm busy. This girl's worth the fight, for I know who wants one just about her looks and age. What is it?

We'll work it if money will do it, for there's a lot of money in this or I wouldn't have all you fellows on the job. I saw a picture she gave Baxter. She's a pretty little chicken, isn't she?"

"Shoor! Some squab. Well, Mr. Clemm, dere's a rookie cop down in de precinct w'ere I got a couple workin', named Burke. Bobbie Burke, d.a.m.n 'im! He gave me de worst beatin' up I ever got from any cop, an' I'm on bail now for General Sessions fer a.s.saultin' 'im."

"What's he got to do with it?"

"Well, dis guy was laid up in de hospital by one of me pals who put 'im out on first wid a brick. He got stuck on a gal whose old man was in dat hospital, and dat gal is de sister of dis yere Lorna Barton. Does ye git me?"

Clemm's eyes sparkled.

"What does he look like? Brown hair, tall, very square shoulders?" he asked.

"Exact! He's a fresh guy wid his talk, too--one of dem ejjicated cops.

Dey tells me he was a collige boy, or in de army or somethin'."

"Could he have known about Lorna Barton going out with Baxter that night Shepard was beaten?"

"My Gaud! Yes, cause Baxter he tells me Burke was dere at de house."

Clemm nodded his head.

"Then you can take a hundred to one shot tip from me, Jimmie, that this Burke had something to do with Shepard. He may have put one of his friends on the job. Those cops are not such dummies as we think they are sometimes. That fellow's a dangerous man."

Clemm pondered for a moment. Jimmie was surprised, for the manager of the "Mercantile Agency" was noted for his rapid-fire methods. The Monk knew that something of great importance must be afoot to cause this delay.

The manager tapped the desk with his fingers, as he moved his lips, in a silent little conversation with himself. At last he banged the desk with vehemence.

"Here, Jimmie. I'm going to entrust you with an important job."

The Monk brightened and smiled hopefully.

"How much money would it take to put Officer Bobbie Burke, if that's his name, where the cats can't keep him awake at night?"

Jimmie looked s.h.i.+ftily at the manager.

"You mean..."

He drew his hand significantly across his throat, raising his heavy eyebrows in a peculiar monkey grimace which had won for him his soubriquet.

"Yes, to quiet his nerves. It's a shame to let these ambitious young policemen worry too much about their work."

"I kin git it done fer twenty-five dollars."

"Well, here's a hundred, for I'd like to have it attended to neatly, quietly and permanently. You understand me?"

"Say, I'm ashamed ter take money fer dis!" laughed Jimmie the Monk.

"Don't worry about that, my boy. Make a good job of it. It's just business. I'm buying the service and you're selling it. Now get out, for I've got a lot more marketing to do."

Jimmie got.

It was indeed a busy little market place, with many commodities for barter and trade.

CHAPTER X

WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN

Burke was sent up to Grand Central Station the following morning by Captain Sawyer to a.s.sist one of the plain-clothes men in the apprehension of two well-known gangsters who had been reported by telegraph as being on their way to New York.

"We want them down in this precinct, Burke, and you have seen these fellows, so I want to have you keep a sharp lookout in the crowd when the train comes in. In case of a scuffle in a crowd, it's not bad to have a bluecoat ready, because the crowd is likely to take sides.

Anyway, there's apt to be some of this gas-house gang up there to welcome them home. And your club will do more good than a revolver in a railroad station. You help out if Callahan gives you the sign, otherwise just monkey around. It won't take but a few minutes, anyway."

Burke went up to the station with the detective.

They watched patiently when the Chicago train came in, but there was no sign of the desired visitors. The detective entered the gate, when all the pa.s.sengers had left, and searched the train.

"They must have gotten off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, from what the conductor could tell me. If they did, then they'll be nabbed up there, for Sawyer is a wise one, and had that planned," said Callahan. "I'll just loiter around the station a while to see any familiar faces. You can go back to your regular post, Burke."

Bobbie bade him good-bye, and started out one of the big entrances. As he did so he noticed a timid country girl, dressed ridiculously behind the fas.h.i.+ons, and wearing an old-fas.h.i.+oned bonnet. She carried a rattan suitcase and two bandboxes.

"I wonder if she's lost," thought Burke. "I'll ask her. She looks scared enough."