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Updated: June 4, 2025
We'll switch cells and when the greasers get inside we'll lock them up in your places and you can go down and pass the time of day with your friend Coogan. Gawd! won't he be glad to see you! I forgot to say that Barton has already sent a rider over to the C Bar to put the boys wise to the gang that's going down there. Gee, but this will be a great night for Mexico!" So it was arranged.
The words of Detective Coogan were enough to show that only the most convincing proof of guilt, backed by fear of public sentiment, could bring the department to raise a finger against him. And how could I hope to rouse that public sentiment? What would my word count against that of the King of the Street? Where was the motive for the crime?
"Well," said Coogan, affably, as he scrawled his name with a fountain pen at the bottom of the instrument, "after I've won out suppose you take his place." Ballard jerked his head in instantaneous acquiescence. "If you win out!" he assented, gravely.
Coogan," she said anxiously, "if you can't find any other way of getting out there, I want you to take this chair of mine you'll be able to manage with it, I am sure." The Flopper looked at her with gratitude but shook his head mindful of Doc Madison. "T'anks, mum," he said, "but I couldn't t'ink of it you needs it more'n me." "Please do," she insisted.
"No, there ain't. The bloke as gave it to me said there weren't." "Well, here's something I want you to deliver," said I, taking up my note to Detective Coogan. "Do you know where the City Hall is?" "Does I know what are yer givin' us?" said the boy with infinite scorn in his voice. "A quarter," I returned with a laugh, tossing him the coin. "Wait a minute."
"I was asked to hand this to ye." I took it in wonder. Was there something more from Detective Coogan? I tore open the envelope and read on its inclosure: "Kum tonite to the house. Shure if youre life is wurth savein. "Muther Borton." I studied the note carefully, and then turned to Policeman Corson. "When did she give you this and where?" "A lady?" said Corson with a grin. "Ah, Mr.
So there in readiness lay the hired dress-suit, the Major's gleaming linen, and the other necessaries of evening attire. Coogan leisurely donned the unaccustomed plumage, paying as much attention to his toilet as a debutante when arraying herself for her first cotillion.
"Mabbe," announced the Flopper tactfully, "mabbe I'd better be gettin' back to me valise we're most dere, ain't we?" Mrs. Thornton turned toward him. "No; please don't go, Mr. Coogan it's too hard for you to get through the train. Sam will get your things as soon as he comes back. Do stay right where you are until we get to Needley." "No; don't think of going, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton savagely.
My brain refused to work in the maze of contradictions and mysteries, plots and counterplots, in which I was involved. I took my way at last toward the market, and, hailing a boy to whom I intrusted my letter to Detective Coogan, walked briskly to Pine Street.
As he struggled with exaggerated strenuosity to free himself from the entangled debris, he saw Coogan gain his feet and run swiftly towards the tethered horse; he saw the halter rope severed with one deft slash of the bowie and the foot placed hastily in the stirrup.
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