THE MAGPIE
A minute passed--another.The automatic at Jimmie Dale's hip, the muzzle just peeping over the table top, held a steady bead on the window.Came the footstep again--and then suddenly, a series of low, quick tappings upon the windowpane.The Tocsin's hand slipped away from his arm.Jimmie Dale's set face relaxed as he read the underground Morse, and he replaced his revolver slowly in his pocket.
"The Magpie!" said Jimmie Dale, in an undertone."What's he want?""I don't know," she answered, in a whisper."He never came here before.There's a back way out, Jimmie, if you--""No," he said quickly."We've enemies enough, with out making one of the Magpie.He knows some one is here with you--our shadows were on the blind.Don't queer yourself.Let him in.I'll light the lamp."He struck a match, as she ran from the room, and, lifting the hot lamp chimney with the edge of his ragged coat, lighted the lamp.He turned the wick down a little, shading and dimming the room--and then, as he flirted a bead of moisture from his forehead, whimsically stretched out his hand to watch it in the lamplight.
"That's bad, Jimmie," he muttered gravely to himself, as he noted an almost imperceptible tremour."Got a start, didn't you! Under a bit of a strain, eh? Well"--grimly--"never mind! It looks as though the luck had turned Makoff and Spider Jack!"His hand reached up to his hat, jerked the brim at a rakish angle over his eyes--and he sprawled himself out on a chair.He heard the Tocsin's voice at the front door, and a man's voice, low and guarded, answer her.Then the door closed, and their steps approached the room.It was rather curious, that--a visit from the Magpie! What could the Magpie want? What could there be in common between the Magpie and Silver Mag? The Magpie, alias Slimmy Joe, was counted the cleverest safe worker in the United States, barring only and always one--a smile flickered across the lips of Larry the Bat--one whose pre-eminence the Magpie, much to his own chagrin, admitted himself--the Gray Seal!
He looked up, twisting the stub of a cigarette between his grimy fingers and fumbling for a match, as the Tocsin and, behind her, the Magpie, short, slim, and wiry, shrewd-faced, with sharp, quick-glancing little black eyes, entered the room.
"'Ello, Larry!" grinned the Magpie."Got yer breath back yet? Ifelt it through de windowpane when youse let go at de lamp!""'Ello, Slimmy!" returned Jimmie Dale ungraciously, speaking through the corner of his mouth."Ferget it!""Sure!" said the Magpie unconcernedly.He stared about him, and finally, drawing a chair up to the table, sat down, motioned the Tocsin to do the same, and leaned forward amiably."I didn't mean to throw no scare into youse," he said, in a conciliating tone.
"But I had a little business wid Mag, an' I was kind of interested in whether she was entertainin' company or not--see? I didn't know youse an' Mag was workin' together.""Mabbe," observed Jimmie Dale, as ungraciously as before, "mabbe dere's some more t'ings youse don't know!""Aw, cough up de grouch!" advised the Magpie, with a hint of impatience creeping into his voice."Youse don't need to be sore all night! I told youse I wasn't tryin' to hand youse one, didn't I?""Never mind Larry, Slimmy," put in the Tocsin petulantly."He's down on his luck, dat's all.He ain't had de price of a pinch of coke fer two days.""Oho!" exclaimed the Magpie, grinning again."So dat's wot's givin'
youse de pip, eh, Larry? Well, den, say, youse can take it from me dat mabbe youse'll be glad I blew around.I was lookin' fer a guy about yer size fer a little job to-night, an' I was t'inkin' of lettin' Young Dutchy in on it, but seem' youse are here an' in wid Mag, an' dat I got to get Mag in, too, youse are on if youse say de word.""Wot's de lay?" inquired Larry the Bat, unbending a little.
The Magpie cocked his eye, and stuck his tongue in his cheek.
"GOOD-night!" he said tersely."Nothin' like dat! Are youse on, or ain't youse?""Well, den, wot's in it fer me?" persisted Larrry the Bat.
"More'n de price of a coke sneeze!" returned the Magpie pertinently.
"Dere's a century note fer youse, an' mabbe two or t'ree of dem fer Mag."Larry the Bat's eyes gleamed avariciously.
"Aw, quit yer kiddin'!" he said gruffly."A century note--fer me!""Dat's wot I said! Youse heard me!" rejoined the Magpie shortly.
"Only if it listens good to youse now, I don't want no squealin'
after the divvy.I'm takin' de chances, youse has de soft end of it.One century note fer youse--an' de rest is none of yer business! Dat's puttin' it straight, ain't it? Well, wot do youse say, an' say it quick--'cause if youse ain't comin' in, youse can beat it out of here so's I can talk to Mag.""Dere ain't nothin' I wouldn't take a chance on fer a hundred plunks!" declared Larry the Bat, with sudden fervency--and stared, anxiously expectant, at the Magpie."Sure, I'm on Slimmy! Sure, Iam! Cut it loose! Spill de story!"
"Well, den," said the Magpie, "I wants--""Youse ain't through yet!" interrupted the Tocsin tartly."I ain't heard youse askin' me nothin'! I ain't on me uppers like Larry, an'
mabbe de price don't cut so much ice--see?""Aw," said the Magpie, with a smirk, "I don't have to ask youse on dis lay.Dis is where youse'd come in on it fer marbles.Say, dis is where we gets de hook into a guy by de name of Henry LaSalle!
Get me?"
HENRY LASALLE! Under the table, Jimmie Dale's hand clenched suddenly; but not a muscle of his face moved, save, as with the tip of his tongue, he shifted the butt of the cigarette that was hanging royally from his lower lip to the other corner of his mouth.
"Sure! She's 'got' youse, Slimmy!" he flung out, with a grin, as the Tocsin wrinkled up her face menacingly and began to mumble to herself."He's de guy dat handed her one when she was young, an'
