Frederick R. Bechdolt

“ Hidden in the entrance of a building across the street, his round gray eyes hardened suddenly as he saw two big plain-clothes men enter the place—Flanagan and his partner. He waited until the proprietor had closed the store, and he saw that the pair did not emerge. Whiling away the time between the closing and his rendezvous with Red, he planned with much deliberation. Thieves love poetic justice; and Collins was no exception to the rule.
He greeted Red quietly, and as they walked to the scene of the prospective crime he kept his hand close to his revolver butt. ”

“ A farmer in the seat ahead of him rose, got his grips together, and blocked the aisle. Red stood behind him as the train slowed for its final stop; and suddenly, with a jerk, his thoughts came back from the future to the present—to the present and the things about; to the farmer and to something in the farmer's hand. The man was standing there among his grips, fumbling at a long leather wallet, opening it. Several yellow-backed bills revealed themselves. Red's eyes grew small and bright ”

“ Red drew back, white-faced. Then he saw that Collins' hand was on his revolver butt and that the muzzle of the weapon beneath the owner's overcoat was held in line with his own ribs. Collins' jaw was set, his hard eyes glittered.
"Go ahead," he snarled savagely. "We can't stay here all night. What's the matter? Lost your nerve?"
Red felt his knees growing weak. He must climb that transom, risking Flanagan's not recognizing him; or he must turn on this man, who held his revolver ready to shoot. ”

“ Red stared in silence before him; then his head sank and he went slowly away. It seemed to him that the hand of every man was against him. That self-pity which criminals feel more strongly than other men fed the growing bitterness. He vowed that he would stay in town in spite of Flanagan and the whole police force ”

“ Red's eyes roved for an instant to the red face with its fiery, bristling mustache; they dropped at once. "What 're yo' pinchin' me for? I ain't doing anything." He had never cringed in other years as he did now; his voice was almost a whine.
"What am I pinchin' ye fer?. Why, to t'row ye in jail; that's why. Ye're a thief an' an ex-con. What's on ye, annyhow?" Flanagan laughed grimly as he prepared to make the search.
It was now or never with Red. "I'm just out," he pleaded. "O' course you know it; so does every one. You don't think I'd be fool enough to turn a trick here, do you? ”

“ Red flushed, realizing how patent was the fact to this inquisitor. He who had been his own master, working alone in other days, felt resentment as the Fence went on: "O' course you want to make a piece of Christmas money." The anger passed then as Cohen, apparently apropos of nothing, diverted his talk again to current happenings—the history of the new burglar whom Flanagan and the others were seeking. Red's curiosity was mingled with a certain spirit of emulation as he listened. The man had no friends to betray him; he got rich plunder ”

“ As he walked along the crowded streets—the streets that he had trodden in the arrogance of wanton success before—his mind gradually centered itself upon that objective point. And he began to smile more kindly to himself. ”

“ From such shifty-eyed aides he had been able to get no help; the new thief worked alone, and was unknown to criminals at large. But here—in his hands—was a man who had climbed high, who must know many, could know whom he pleased. It was an opportunity. Flanagan looked at Red, a look which the latter did not understand.
"I got ye dead to rights." He paused to let the words sink in; he bent his eyes into the evasive eyes before him. "Dead to rights," he repeated slowly. "Ye ain't got a livin' show to slip out o' this, Mr. Powers. ”

“ He selected a doll with sawdust-stuffed body and china head. He paid over the coin which Cohen had given him, and hurried away. It was freezing hard. The damp cold crept through his thin clothing and took hold of his limbs. His stomach was empty; his face was pinched and blue. But he was not thinking of these physical discomforts.
The old man opened the cottage door to Red's knock ”

“ Red spoke savagely, looking Flanagan in the eye. "You go to Siegel's grocery on First off Yesler to-night before he closes, an' stay there. I told you I was up against some wise people. Well, this prowler's to make the transom about two in the morning. And I'm to stall on the outside. All you got to do is wait there for him, an' take him. I'll get away while you are doin' it." He hesitated a moment, then went on vindictively: "You shadow Slant-Eyed Cohen then. He's fencin' for the other guy." ”