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Updated: August 28, 2024
It was easy. I piped the Magpie off to a chap named Kenleigh having the bonds up there in his rooms in an apartment house. I couldn't crack Kenleigh's safe myself, but it was nuts for the Magpie see? He cracked the safe.
"The fence could dispose of them by the underground route all over the country where the numbers weren't staring everybody in the face. Yes, I guess they could cash in, all right. Or it wouldn't be much of a trick for a good plate-worker to alter a number or two, either the game's big enough. But" Meighan chuckled again "he hasn't got away with it yet!" Kenleigh made no answer.
What do they say?" demanded Kenleigh feverishly. "Mr. Kenleigh," said Meighan soberly, "there's been a little feud on in the underworld for the last few months. It came to a showdown to-night, and the man that won played in luck he's killed two birds with one stone, I guess. It looks damned black for your bonds, I'm afraid." "They're they're gone?" faltered Kenleigh.
It won't get you anywhere, and it doesn't follow because the swag is gone that we can't get it back. I know the guy that pulled this job." "You what!" Kenleigh, his face lighting up as though with a sudden hope, stepped quickly toward the detective. "What did you say? You know who did it!" "Don't get excited!" advised Meighan coolly. "Sure, I know!
"That's poor consolation for me," said Kenleigh bitterly. "Suppose some of them, or even all of them, were recovered that way in time where do I stand to-morrow morning?" "I guess that's right if the Magpie ever got a chance to hand them over to some fence," admitted Meighan.
It was a sort of sitting-room, or den, cosily furnished with deep, comfortable lounging chairs. There was a flat-topped desk in the centre, a telephone on the desk; and at the rear of the room a connecting door, leading presumably to the bedroom, was open. A clean-shaven, dark-eyed man of perhaps thirty-five, Kenleigh obviously, was pacing nervously up and down.
"I suppose you mean that you recognise it?" he ventured. "Recognize it!" Meighan laughed low, and, stepping past Kenleigh to the desk, picked up the telephone, and called Headquarters. "Recognise it!" With the receiver to his ear, waiting for his connection, he turned toward Kenleigh. "Why, say, walk over to the Bowery and show it to the first person you meet, and he'd call the turn.
Kenleigh's story meanwhile.... I'll be here till you 'phone.... Yes.... All right!" Meighan hung up the receiver, sat down in a chair, and motioned toward another that was close alongside the desk. "Turn out the light, Mr. Kenleigh," he said abruptly; "and sit down here." Kenleigh looked his amazement. "Turn out the light?" he repeated perplexedly. "Yes," Meighan nodded. "And at once, please."
That is, it's a toss-up between one of two, and that's easy. We'll round 'em both up before morning, and then I guess it won't be much of a trick to pick the winner. They won't be looking for trouble as quick as this. We'll get 'em, all right. It's a toss-up between Mug Garretty and the Magpie." Kenleigh was staring incredulously at the detective. "How do you know?" he gasped out. "I I don't "
"Don't make any noise now, and don't speak much above a whisper. That little glass stick pin is worth twenty years to the Magpie. See? When he finds that he has lost it, he'll take any risk to make sure that he didn't lose it here. Get the idea? It would plant him for keeps, and nobody knows it any better than he does." "You mean he'll come back here?" whispered Kenleigh eagerly.
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