We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
(SSSflhlfiY)
BY CuzA^efi HarieMA^p)
;<np en — eleven — twelve. Midnight ! ' ' \ Patrolman Barney gave his night-stick a hitch to reassure himself that it was convenient in case of need, and resumed his whistled rendition of ' ' The Trail of the Lonesome Pine" at the exact point where he had left the notes hanging in the air, to count the bell-strokes from the tower of St. James'. Unknown to him, a plaintive minor crept into the erstwhile cheery tune as he strode along the uncannily echoing street.
Patrolman Barney never felt quite certain of what might turn up in those doubtful hours between twelve and three, so he glanced this way and that, questioning the shadow of areaways, the secrets of ash-barrels and stoops. Once it had been a two-hour baby wrapped in a shawl and tucked into an inverted garbage-can; once a woman, with strange red hair and a knife-wound in her throat. There was no telling what he might find tonight — th ' saints above ! What was that %
An open door flapping aimlessly in the night wind, that was all, but a chill of coming adventure crawled along the sturdy spine beneath the blue, belted coat. An open door — at an hour when all respectable, law
27
abiding doors are shut and asleep, spells Something "Wrong. Moreover, the door was attached to what in the daytime was known as Albert Henderson's Jewelry Emporium, the very place where, by all rules and rights, a door should be locked and barred. The chill prickled and tingled disagreeably as Barney gazed. Not that he was afraid — certainly not — but the possibilities of pistols, knives and such far-from-desirable objects that might be lurking behind that swinging door were enough to paralyze the bravest feet on the force.
With a preliminary yell, to spur his courage, Barney hurled his one hundred and eighty-eight pounds thru the yawning black orifice of the open doorway. The bright finger of his bull's-eye poked and pried along the show-cases, disclosing confusion everywhere — rifled trays of rings, scattered boxes, broken glass. It looked more like the work of a dozen burglars than of one.
"Shure Oi belave 'tis an elliphant that's bruk in here," gasped Barney. "Aven Sam the' Shmasher niver did such an untoidy job."
A muffled groan from the unknown regions behind the show-cases sent the