Alleys of Darkness, Robert E. Howard [ebook offline reader TXT] 📗

the armies of South America and China—and

what have you.

 

A native employee stopped me at the door, and asked me what was my

business, and I told him I wanted to see Ace. He showed me into the

room which opened on the alley, and went after Bissett—which could

not of suited my plan better.

 

Purty soon a door opened, and Bissett strode in—a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with steely eyes and wavy blond hair. He was

in a dress suit, and altogether looked like he’d stepped right outa

the social register. And as I looked at him, so calm and self-assured,

and thought of poor Whithers being driv to crime by him, and the Old

Man losing his ship on account of his crookedness, I seen red.

 

“Well, Dorgan, what can I do for you?” he asked.

 

I said nothing. I stepped in and hooked my right to his jaw. It

caught him flat-footed, with his hands down. He hit the floor full

length, and he didn’t twitch.

 

I bent over him, run my hands through his clothes, found his six-shooter and throwed it aside. Music and the sounds of revelry reached

me through the walls, but evidently nobody had seen or heard me slug

Bissett. I lifted him and histed him onto my shoulders—no easy job,

because he was as big as me, and limp as a rag.

 

But I done it, and started for the alley. I got through the door

all right, which I was forced to leave open, account of having both

hands full, and just as I was dumping Ace into the back part of the

car, I heered a scream. Wheeling, I seen a girl had just come into the

room I’d left, and was standing frozen, staring wildly at me. The

light from the open door shone full on me and my captive. The girl was

Glory O’Dale, Ace Bissett’s sweetheart. I hurriedly slammed the car

door shut and jumped to the wheel, and as I roared off down the alley,

I was vaguely aware that Glory had rushed out of the building after

me, screaming blue murder.

 

IT WAS PURTY late, and the route I took they wasn’t many people

abroad. Behind me I begun to hear Bissett stir and groan, and I pushed

Spike over in the back seat to watch him. But he hadn’t fully come to

when I drawed up in the shadows beside the place Whithers had told me

about—a ramshackle old building down by a old rotting, deserted

wharf. Nobody seemed to live anywheres close around, or if they did,

they was outa sight. As I clum outa the car, a door opened a crack,

and I seen Whithers’ white face staring at me.

 

“Did you get him, Sailor?” he whispered.

 

For answer I jerked open the back door, and Bissett tumbled out on

his ear and laid there groaning dimly. Whithers started back with a

cry.

 

“Is he dead?” he asked fearfully.

 

“Would he holler like that if he was?” I asked impatiently. “Help

me carry him in, and we’ll search him.”

 

“Wait’ll I tie him up,” said Whithers, producing some cords, and

to my disgust, he bound the unconscious critter hand and foot.

 

“It’s safer this way,” Whithers said. “He’s a devil, and we can’t

afford to take chances.”

 

We then picked him up and carried him through the door, into a

very dimly lighted room, across that ‘un, and into another’n which was

better lit—the winders being covered so the light couldn’t be seen

from the outside. And I got the surprise of my life. They was five men

in that room. I wheeled on Whithers. “What’s the idee?” I demanded.

 

“Now, now, Sailor,” said Whithers, arranging Bissett on the bench

where we’d laid him. “These are just friends of mine. They know about

Bissett and my sister.”

 

I heered what sounded like a snicker, and I turned to glare at the

assembled “friends”. My gaze centered on a fat, flashy-dressed bird

smoking a big black cigar; diamonds shone all over his fingers, and in

his stick-pin. The others was just muggs.

 

“A fine lot of friends you pick out!” I said irritably to

Whithers. “Diamond Joe Galt is been mixed up in every shady deal

that’s been pulled in the past three years. And if you’d raked the

Seven Seas you couldn’t found four dirtier thugs than Limey Teak, Bill

Reynolds, Dutch Steinmann, and Red Partland.”

 

“Hey, you—” Red Partland riz, clenching his fists, but Galt

grabbed his arm.

 

“Stop it, Red,” he advised. “Easy does it. Sailor,” he addressed

me with a broad smile which I liked less’n I’d liked a scowl, “they’s

no use in abuse. We’re here to help our pal Whithers get justice.

That’s all. You’ve done your part. You can go now, with our thanks.”

 

“Not so fast,” I growled, and just then Whithers hollered:

“Bissett’s come to!”

 

We all turned around and seen that Bissett’s eyes was open, and

blazing.

 

“Well, you dirty rats,” he greeted us all and sundry, “you’ve got

me at last, have you?” He fixed his gaze on me, and said: “Dorgan, I

thought you were a man. If I’d had any idea you were mixed up in this

racket, you’d have never got a chance to slug me as you did.”

 

“Aw, shut up,” I snarled. “A fine nerve you’ve got, talkin’ about

men, after what you’ve did!”

 

Galt pushed past me and stood looking down at Bissett, and I seen

his fat hands clenched, and the veins swell in his temples.

 

“Bissett,” he said, “we’ve got you cold and you know it. Kick in—

where’s that paper?”

 

“You cursed fools!” Bissett raved, struggling at his cords till

the veins stood out on his temples too. “I tell you, the paper’s

worthless.”

 

“Then why do you object to givin’ it to us?” demanded Whithers.

 

“Because I haven’t got it!” raged Bissett. “I destroyed it, just

as I’ve told you before.”

 

“He’s lyin’,” snarled Red Partland. “He wouldn’t never destroy

such a thing as that. It means millions. Here, I’ll make him talk—”

 

He shouldered forward and grabbed Bissett by the throat. I grabbed

Red in turn, and tore him away.

 

“Belay!” I gritted. “He’s a rat, but just the same I ain’t goin’

to stand by and watch no helpless man be tortured.”

 

“Why, you—” Red bellered, and swung for my jaw.

 

I ducked and sunk my left to the wrist in his belly and he dropped

like his legs had been cut out from under him. The others started

forward, rumbling, and I wheeled towards ‘em, seething with fight. But

Galt got between us and shoved his gorillas back.

 

“Here,” he snapped. “No fightin’ amongst ourselves! Get up, Red.

Now, Sailor,” he begun to pat my sleeves in his soothing way, which I

always despises beyond words, “there ain’t no need for hard feelin’s.

I know just how you feel. But we got to have that paper. You know

that, Sailor—”

 

Suddenly a faint sound made itself evident. “What’s that?” gasped

Limey, going pale.

 

“It’s Spike,” I said. “I left him in the car, and he’s got tired

of settin’ out there, and is scratchin’ at the front door. I’m goin’

to go get him, but I’ll be right back, and if anybody lays a hand on

Bissett whilst I’m gone, I’ll bust him into pieces. We’ll get that

paper, but they ain’t goin’ to be no torturin’.”

 

I strode out, scornful of the black looks cast my way. As I shut

the door behind me, a clamor of conversation bust out, so many talking

at wunst I couldn’t understand much, but every now and then Ace

Bissett’s voice riz above the din in accents of anger and not pain, so

I knowed they wasn’t doing nothing to him. I crossed the dim outer

room, opened the door and let Spike in, and then, forgetting to bolt

it—I ain’t used to secrecy and such—I started back for the inner

room.

 

BEFORE I REACHED the other door, I heered a quick patter of feet

outside. I wheeled—the outer door bust violently open, and into the

room rushed Glory O’Dale. She was panting hard, her dress was tore,

her black locks damp, and her dark eyes was wet and bright as black

jewels after a rain. And she had Ace’s six-shooter in her hand.

 

“You filthy dog!” she cried, throwing down on me.

 

I looked right into the muzzle of that .45 as she jerked the

trigger. The hammer snapped on a faulty cartridge, and before she

could try again, Spike launched hisself from the floor at her. I’d

taught him never to bite a woman. He didn’t bite Glory. He throwed

hisself bodily against her so hard he knocked her down and the gun

flew outa her hand.

 

I picked it up and stuck it into my hip pocket. Then I started to

help her up, but she hit my hand aside and jumped up, tears of fury

running down her cheeks. Golly, she was a beauty!

 

“You beast!” she raged. “What have you done with Ace? I’ll kill

you if you’ve harmed him! Is he in that room?”

 

“Yeah, and he ain’t harmed,” I said, “but he oughta be hung—”

 

She screamed like a siren. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you touch a hair

of his head! Oh, Ace!”

 

She then slapped my face, jerked out a handful of hair, and kicked

both my shins.

 

“What I can’t understand is,” I said, escaping her clutches, “is

why a fine girl like you ties up with a low-down rat like Bissett.

With your looks, Glory—”

 

“To the devil with my looks!” she wept, stamping on the door. “Let

me past; I know Ace is in that room—I heard his voice as I came in.”

 

They wasn’t no noise in the inner room now. Evidently all of them

was listening to what was going on out here, Ace included.

 

“You can’t go in there,” I said. “We got to search Ace for the

incriminatin’ evidence he’s holdin’ against Jed Whithers’ sister—”

 

“You’re mad as a March hare,” she said. “Let me by!”

 

And without no warning she back-heeled me and pushed me with both

hands. It was so unexpected I ignominiously crashed to the floor, and

she darted past me and throwed open the inner door. Spike drove for

her, and this time he was red-eyed, but I grabbed him as he went by.

 

Glory halted an instant on the threshold with a cry of mingled

triumph, fear and rage. I riz, cussing beneath my breath and dusting

off my britches. Glory ran across the room, eluding the grasping paws

of Joe Galt, and throwed herself with passionate abandon on the

prostrate form of Ace Bissett. I noticed that Ace, which hadn’t till

then showed the slightest sign of fear, was suddenly pale and his jaw

was grim set.

 

“It was madness for you to come, Glory,” he muttered.

 

“I saw Dorgan throw you into the car,” she whimpered, throwing her

arms around him, and tugging vainly at his cords. “I jumped in another

and followed—blew out a tire a short distance from here—lost sight

of the car I was following and wandered around in the dark alleys on

foot for awhile, till I saw the car standing outside. I came on in—”

 

“Alone? My God!” groaned Ace.

 

“Alone?” echoed Galt, with a sigh of relief. He flicked some dust

from his lapel, stuck his cigar back in his mouth at a cocky angle,

and said: “Well, now, we’ll have a little talk. Come here, Glory.”