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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77031 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                          Just a Bit Too Fast
+
+                             By HAL MOORE
+
+                _Thought-and-a-half Morgan was exactly
+               that far ahead of his dull-witted police
+                     pursuers--or so he thought._
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+                Argosy All-Story Weekly March 16 1929.]
+
+
+When the somewhat forlorn-looking six-cylinder touring car drew up
+across the street before the Peninsula Park branch bank, I didn't
+give it a second thought. Neither did Halloran--and if either of
+us should have noticed, he was the one. He was supposed to know
+Thought-and-a-half Morgan.
+
+No, neither of us gave it a thought; not until we noticed that the
+seeming-asleep young egg at the wheel had kept his motor running. Then
+we both dashed across the asphalt in a damned big hurry.
+
+Detective Halloran had made a thousand-mile jump to spill his story to
+my chief--the tip he had, that Thought-and-a-half was about to essay
+in our fair village of one million souls a few of the strokes that
+had brought him much notoriety throughout the nation at large--and a
+considerable price on his head. Halloran's chief back home was due for
+the sack if this looter of six banks in six days was not chucked in
+durance vile. He had sent out his star man with some info bulldozed
+from one of Morgan's minor aids.
+
+It was supposed to be infallible stuff; the man Morgan, who had won
+his moniker by being at least one think-and-a-fraction ahead of the
+brainiest cop that ever lived, had moved in on us. Halloran said he
+had practically the entire dope; but my chief, noting with disgust
+the opportunities taken by Halloran to advertise his own astuteness,
+and feeling pretty secure over the fact that a major job hadn't been
+pulled in our village for months, didn't lend an overly receptive ear.
+
+He had enough to do, speaking at Rotary and Kiwanis luncheons, and the
+like; so he merely growled: "You run around with him, Jake, and if you
+need help lemme know."
+
+Those had been my orders. Dashing across toward the bank with Halloran,
+I wondered if this was the time to report. Well, if it was, it was too
+late now. Morgan could have taken the bank's foundations with him if
+we laid back for reënforcements. But maybe this wouldn't be Morgan,
+I thought, tugging at my armpit to pull my gun free in a second, if
+need be. Just as Halloran and I dashed into the entryway I caught a
+side glimpse of the dude behind the wheel. He was watching us, but his
+talons were resting on the steering-wheel in plain sight. Which is
+somewhat unusual for an outside man--if he was one.
+
+We almost bowled over a customer or two, getting inside, but finally
+landed right side up in the bank lobby. I flashed a look around, then
+turned to Halloran. He had just completed a similar look-see. I hope I
+didn't appear as sheepish as he did.
+
+In brief, business was going on as usual.
+
+"Who the hell ever said I was a cop?" grunted Halloran to me in a tone
+spilling over with disgust.
+
+"Yes, whoever said such a thing?" came a throaty voice behind my
+back. I couldn't see the party, but that didn't keep gooseflesh from
+prickling up on my neck. There's no mistaking the determined prod of a
+gat in the small of the back, just above the kidneys. Halloran stood
+as motionless as I, and out of the corner of my eye I could see about
+three inches of the persuader that was making a good Indian out of him.
+Our friend was evidently a two-gun man.
+
+"Mr. Halloran and one of the local talent, I believe?" The words had a
+sarcastic smirk to them. "I had an idea some one might be coming along,
+so I stopped at the desk here to write out a deposit slip. Wonderful
+device, that, for killing time and covering the back trail--and who'd
+ever suspect a nice old woman like me?"
+
+[Illustration: "_Mr. Halloran and one of the local talent, I believe?_"]
+
+At the risk of having my viscera spread all over the lobby from
+gunfire immediately to my rear, I took a side-wise peek at a mirror
+hanging on the far wall. You could 'a' knocked me dead when I spotted
+the reflection. Old lady was right--skirt, Sunday bonnet and all!
+This Thought-and-a-half certainly earned his nickname. If he didn't
+look like one of Punkinville's sturdy old-time housewives I'll eat my
+shoes--and they're size elevens. He'd even duplicated the little hunch
+in the shoulders that comes with age.
+
+Now I knew why the outside man hadn't raised a holler. He'd evidently
+worked with Thought-and-a-half before, and knew what real confidence
+should be.
+
+All this flashed through the old bean in far less time than it takes to
+tell it--all this and more. For I had noted also that this bank out in
+the rhubarbs of our city had, at 2.48 P.M. of a dull winter
+day, mighty few customers. In fact not as many were in the corridor
+as were behind the wicket windows. The boy with the guns stuck in our
+manly backs had picked his moment right.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I wondered just when the fireworks would begin, and how. But I didn't
+have to wonder long. Folks were getting kind of curious, seeing us
+with hands in air. But no one cared to risk reaching for a gun, even
+if there happened to be one in the place. There were but three likely
+targets; two unmistakable plainclothes men in unmistakably embarrassing
+positions, and a fantastic but seemingly perfectly harmless farmwife.
+
+Acting as if he were having a hard time to keep from laughing, Morgan
+began his orders.
+
+"Tell 'em you're bulls!" snapped the voice, coldlike.
+
+Halloran almost strangled, getting that order out, and damned if I
+could blame him.
+
+"We--uh--we're police officers," he gurgled, "and
+we're--we're--uh--ordered to say that we'll--uh--protect you!"
+
+Some heartless gink snickered.
+
+It sounded from suspiciously near my coat tails.
+
+"Tell 'em to be good, and for that young blond teller to collect all
+the money--_all_ the money--on the counters, and bring it over here
+where I can watch him every step of the way."
+
+The announcement was broadcast as per request.
+
+For a moment the blond young man seemed to hesitate, and looked
+longingly at what must have been an alarm push-button.
+
+"Call off that fool!" rasped Thought-and-a-half.
+
+"Hold 'er, son!" cried Halloran. "I know this guy. He'll sink me with a
+load o' lead if you don't behave!"
+
+The young man--thank the Lord--changed his mind.
+
+With the currency in a couple of canvas sacks, as our unseen "farmwife"
+had ordered, the blond teller started across the tiled floor toward us.
+He stepped along right bravely for the first few yards, but uneasy as I
+was, with that gat prodding me in the suspender buttons, I took courage
+from watching his knees wabble the last few paces. It's no fun walking
+up to a cocky bank artist who holds two hair-trigger cannons and knows
+how to use 'em.
+
+But he finally got the money on the small table as directed. It lay
+right at our elbow, the table being the one selected by our temporary
+guardian for his time-killing writing stunt early in the game.
+
+Everybody in the bank was giving undivided attention, when Morgan sang
+out on his own accord:
+
+"Now, folks, if you don't want to mop up a lot of blood off'n this
+floor, you just stay mannerly until we ring down the curtain. Mr.
+Halloran here is going to remain deathly still while I remove one gun
+from his mid-section that I may divest his partner"--the same being
+me--"of all weapons. Mr. Halloran knows that if he moves, this amiable
+square-toes at his side will suddenly release all right and title to
+his spirit--Ah, thank you, Mr. Halloran.
+
+"Now, folks, Mr. Halloran's partner will freeze into inactivity while
+Mr. Halloran's gun is likewise extracted--Ah, thank you both! As a
+parting word of advice, don't risk a shot while I kick both these guns
+under the steam radiator that I may grab today's earnings. It might be
+awfully tough on these perfectly nice officers."
+
+I heard both rods clatter against the side wall, and then saw a hand
+flash out from behind me and grab the canvas sacks. A hurried clatter
+of steps, a tense "So long!" and the roar of a six-cylinder motor
+outside; it was over.
+
+Without waiting to cast a look over my shoulder, I scurried for that
+radiator, clomped down on my knees and pawed through a two-inch layer
+of dust that some lazy janitor had allowed to collect there.
+
+Halloran was abreast of me. We retrieved our guns almost at the same
+instant and dashed outside.
+
+Two blocks away, and taking no notice of traffic laws or anything else,
+that decrepit-looking heap was cutting the air at a fast clip. It was
+sure a deceiving cuss when it came to performance.
+
+We commandeered a shiny big car that was threading its way through
+traffic about three jumps from the curb, but there was a precious
+second wasted trying to get the idea through the mind of the bozo at
+the wheel. Once he did wake up, however, he sure did live up to the
+reputation of flaming youth. Not more than nineteen, perhaps, but he
+stomped a wicked accelerator.
+
+"I don't know this blamed town of yours," howled Halloran in my ear.
+"Which way is the bimbo heading?"
+
+"Running parallel to the city limits now," I shouted back above the
+roar of wind and motor, "and if he keeps on, and takes the right hand
+turn about a mile ahead, he'll be hitting for the great open spaces. A
+State highway leads dead away from there."
+
+The kid at the wheel was doing his best to catch Thought-and-a-half's
+fleet little wreck, but he didn't have near as much at stake as did
+the parties ahead and consequently just would not take quite as many
+chances. Neither of us could take the wheel, for if we stopped to
+switch we'd be utterly out of the running.
+
+I held my breath when a heavily laden coal truck shot out of a cross
+street--and heaved a sigh of relief when we squeezed by at 50-per by
+a hair's breadth. Talk about the perils of down-town streets; this
+suburban traffic is all a man wants at early dusk of a cloudy winter
+afternoon, especially when chain grocery store fronts and other
+landmarks are slipping by so fast you can't count 'em.
+
+The sweat was streaming off my forehead, but between the drops I caught
+a glimpse of the jack rabbit we were chasing just as it turned to the
+right and out the State highway. We'd lost a lot of ground.
+
+"You say they're headin' out of town now?" he bellowed.
+
+"Check!"
+
+He prodded the kid on the shoulder. "Lay off, son; we're shifting our
+course."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The boy lifts his foot off the gas, and we drop down to thirty-five
+miles. Halloran turns to me, speaking low so the kid won't hear him.
+Evidently figures there's no use taking unnecessary chances.
+
+"Where's Liberty 0310?" he asks.
+
+"Lodge password or telephone number?" I counters.
+
+"Don't be a fool!" he hisses.
+
+So I tell him: "It's one of the dumpiest rookeries in the burg. Regular
+hang-out. We call there whenever we have to, but we try to make 'em
+feel it's a safe hide-out; generally make our pinches several blocks
+away."
+
+"That's where we go now," he barks. And he turns the kid around in the
+road.
+
+At nineteen one can get a thrill out of helping cops chase prison
+fodder, so the kid readily agrees to cart us down town.
+
+"Can't waste a minute," Halloran growls at me when I protest that the
+taxis are still running.
+
+"What's eatin' ya now?" I glowers. His highhanded tactics are kinda
+getting on my nerves. "'Fore we went out on this little jaunt you were
+tellin' me what a whirlwind you were back home; and yet this Morgan guy
+slips it over on ya like it had been rehearsed.
+
+"Where's all this brainwork you admitted bein' capable of?
+From what I've seen to date, that guinea's name could be
+Two-thousand-Thoughts-ahead Morgan, so far as you're concerned.
+One-and-a-half ain't near enough."
+
+I was getting kind of sore.
+
+"Sorta forget, don't ya, that your hands were just as high as mine?" he
+jeers.
+
+But quickly enough he comes to earth again.
+
+"We lifted that phone number off the dopey back home," he explains.
+"The boy didn't kick through with quite everything, but we found it
+on a card tucked away in the sweatband of his hat. There's no Liberty
+phone exchange in our burg, so we played a hunch it was here."
+
+"Maybe your speedy friend has the low-down by now," I suggests, "and
+has shifted hotels."
+
+"A chance," he agrees, "but a slim one. Nobody knows we got the dopey,
+and he can't get a whisper outside."
+
+"Card have anything else on it?"
+
+"Room number," Halloran grunts, "311."
+
+I guessed that Thought-and-a-half must have things figured out in
+advance, something like a circus or road-show. That is, if Halloran's
+dope was straight.
+
+If it wasn't, we had lost him anyway; and if it was, we'd be waiting
+for our bird when he swung back into town. I only hoped he wouldn't be
+too long about finding out that he'd ducked us.
+
+For safety's sake, once we got down town after a speedy dash past all
+kinds of traffic signals, I stopped the kid several blocks from the
+dump where Morgan was supposed to bunk.
+
+"Better play safe and call some help," I suggests, as we sidle through
+the 4.30 P.M. darkness.
+
+"Can't risk wasting a second," Halloran shoots back. "Our friends will
+cut back here just as soon as they can, if they ever do come. Besides,
+why have a bunch of signboards out for them to see? They can spot a
+dick as far as you or I can."
+
+Sounded reasonable to me. Besides, the chief had said responsibility
+was Halloran's; I was merely reënforcements. If this bimbo was willing
+to risk shooting it out in a dark room, I'm not the guy to holler
+yellow.
+
+"Know the back way in?" Halloran mutters at my elbow.
+
+"Who in hell d'yuh think you're with?" I snarls. "I've worn a buzzer
+long enough to have a little sense, feller!"
+
+Just then we ducked into an alleged office and loft building. He knew
+enough not to talk back; you can never tell what a guy at the other end
+of a hallway might overhear.
+
+Up one, two, then four flights of stairs we climbed. We climbed out on
+the tar and gravel and eased our panting lungs under the canopy of
+stars and coal smoke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We tried to limp down those iron steps quietly, but we must have made
+some noise, for a window slid open just a few feet away.
+
+I couldn't see who it was, but neither could he, or she, see us.
+Knowing the breed of cats that frequent the dump, I didn't feel rude
+at all in whispering: "Hey, you--we think we've shaken the bulls; but
+if they come after us, tell 'em we went _down_ the fire escape--and
+they'll beat it out over the roofs."
+
+Whoever it was in the room gave a little chuckle. No offense taken, it
+seemed. They suffered no illusions as to police ideas on their veracity.
+
+At the third floor we found a hallway window open, and in we slipped.
+The room wasn't hard to find, even in the semidarkness that must have
+covered a multitude of sins--some of which smelled rather vigorously.
+
+Risking a dose of hot lead, I tried the door. It was locked. Halloran,
+the self-confessed fast worker, already had a key out. The second one
+worked, and I think we both got a big enough thrill when we slid into
+that room behind a flash light's beam. No sooner had the door shut
+behind us than Halloran grinned triumphantly.
+
+"All we have to do is wait. There's the evidence." He pointed to a
+half dozen black knitted neckties strung over the bureau mirror.
+Thought-and-a-half, I deduced, favored black knits. Well, they are sort
+of inconspicuous when worn one at a time.
+
+Remembering that the chief's orders originally had been to "run around
+with him," I gladly assented to the reception plan proposed by this
+star sleuth we had in our midst. Hadn't he admitted himself, at least
+ten or twelve times since I had drawn him for a play-mate, that he was
+a fast thinker, and a good one?
+
+And if it was to be part of the plan that I stand immediately back
+of him when Thought-and-a-half opened the door, if that kingpin of
+crookdom ever did open said door, why should I protest? Halloran's two
+hundred pounds would stop the average bullet, and at least slow down
+some of the more vigorous projectiles. Me being a man of family, I
+listen readily to reason.
+
+Halloran figured it out--and, for once, I agreed with him--that there
+would be but one comparatively safe spot in all that room should a
+gunman bust in across the threshold. As the door itself would bang
+against the sidewall when full opened, that position was automatically
+wiped off the books. No one wants to be caught behind a door if the
+intruder decides first to kick it wide open, and then shower lead on
+whatever keeps the porcelain knob from crashing into the plaster.
+
+That left only two walls against which to brace your back--unless you
+cared to hide under the bed. I once helped sweep up a dick who thought
+he'd wait beneath an Ostermoor for a certain party; never for mine!
+
+If you selected the wall that would be on the entrant's left, and there
+happened to be a hall light aglow over his shoulder, chances were you'd
+eat lead in a hurry. And Thought-and-a-half was pretty skookum with a
+rod. I had already decided the left wall was not so good, when Halloran
+informs me in a tense whisper of something I would have done anyway, if
+left alone.
+
+"We'll back against the wall just opposite the door," he squeaks, "and
+dodge most of the light that may flood in when he enters. I'll work the
+flash light. You stand right behind me, and between the two of us we
+ought to get that guy."
+
+Heroic stuff, thinks I; and snaps out: "Did you lock that door after
+you?"
+
+"Hell, no," he confesses, and tip-toes across the floor to rectify the
+error. Wouldn't the coroner have had a fine mess on his hands if our
+friend Thought-and-a-half found he wouldn't need his key!
+
+That was the longest half hour I ever spent. It got sort of tiresome,
+standing there in one position. And we had to stay quiet or else the
+party might leave a sour taste in our mouths.
+
+But listening for noises put the old ear right in tune. I was hearing
+everything that happened, and some things that weren't. Occasionally
+a pair of feet would catfoot warily through the building somewhere. I
+was listening to such a pair on the floor above when suddenly it seemed
+the hum of street traffic increased. The street door had opened; two
+persons were coming up the stairs.
+
+I nudged Halloran, and we wiped the sweat off our palms so there'd be
+no chance of a gun butt slipping at a critical moment. I sensed that
+this particular pair of moving feet meant action for us.
+
+And I was right.
+
+The _slop, slop, slop_ of leather soles on well-worn carpeting kept
+coming our way, up two flights of stairs and then down the hall toward
+the room in which we were. Halloran's big bulk was quivering. Give
+him credit for having courage; it wasn't fear, but the suspense and
+excitement of it all that jelly-fished his bulky muscles. The man's
+nerves were right on edge. He was shaking as bad as--as bad as--aw,
+hell, you've been nervous yourself; you know how I felt, right about
+that time!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of a sudden there came, through the thin door, a grunted, "Lay off that
+match. What if there was somebody in the room?"
+
+To which a more suppliant voice made answer: "Not a chance. We ditched
+'em proper, and they can't know about this dump!"
+
+But Number One, and I knew it was Thought-and-a-half the way Halloran
+fidgeted when he heard the voice, naturally ruled the roost. There was
+no sound of striking matches.
+
+Instead, a soft hand touched the doorknob, which rattled faintly. After
+that test, a key rasped in the lock.
+
+Then slowly, so slowly that it seemed ages, the door swung inward in
+the near-total darkness.
+
+I felt Halloran's back muscles contract as he swung his left arm
+upward--his left hand held the flash light.
+
+Then his growling command:
+
+"Stick 'em up there, Morgan!"
+
+Immediately the doorway was flooded in a circle of light that revealed
+a nervously alert figure with a wicked-looking automatic clutched in
+one tense hand--a hand never known to miss.
+
+I almost groaned aloud. Halloran, the poor fat-head, instead of holding
+the light at arm's length to the left, where it would decoy possible
+return fire, had it clutched tightly to his belly.
+
+Thought-and-a-half didn't wait an instant. A purple-orange jet of fire
+almost a mile long and bright as Halley's comet streaked from his gun
+muzzle, and my ears rang with a report that, echoed in the small room,
+sounded like a complete explosion of the DuPont powder works.
+
+Almost simultaneously a gun roared under my nose, and I knew that
+Halloran had returned the fire. I was about to pull the trigger of my
+own weapon when I saw the bandit chief's pistol fly from his hand, and
+he stood for a photographic moment as if paralyzed.
+
+With a roar I charged across the room, pushing Halloran's two hundred
+pounds ahead of me. But he had caught the same thing I had seen:
+Morgan's gun arm was numb from the shock of having his gat knocked from
+his hand by Halloran's bullet. Unable to fire at us without hitting his
+buddy, Thought-and-a-half's confederate turned to flee as he saw us
+hurtle across the small space. But he didn't quite clear the scene of
+action.
+
+Three bodies--Halloran's and mine, pushing Thought-and-a-half ahead of
+us--crashed through the doorway and into him. The bellow that startled
+from his throat died a borning as he banged against the opposite wall
+in the hallway.
+
+Two or three swings with our clubbed guns, and we had a pretty tame
+pair of birds on our hands.
+
+Morgan, the leader, was first to recover.
+
+"Well, that's that," he snarled, "but how in hell I missed potting you
+when you flashed that light is beyond me! I savvy this copper trick of
+holding the flash light out to the left, and I always plug for an arm's
+length to the opposite side and know I'll hit the body. But to-night I
+didn't connect." He almost moaned the last sentence.
+
+Halloran threw out his chest. He basked in the glow of an implied
+compliment. But he couldn't help rubbing it in.
+
+"You were up against a boy just a little speedier in the brain pan,
+Thought-and-a-half! I figured you'd shoot that way, and I held it up
+against my body to throw you off. Just goes to show there's almost some
+one who can think a little faster!"
+
+I almost believed him. Then, suddenly, I caught sight of something
+interesting. "Fast thinking, hell!" I cried out. "I'd say it was no
+thinking at all!"
+
+And I pointed to the front of his vest.
+
+There, suspended by a tiny gleaming rope, hung Halloran's flash light.
+The darned thing had caught in his ornate watch chain, and he couldn't
+have moved it if he'd tried!
+
+But that was the only thing I said. Let the lying old blowhard take all
+the credit for something he never meant to do. If it hadn't been for
+his thick skull, and that watch chain, I'd have been dead as slavery.
+
+I should complain!
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77031 ***
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+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77031 ***</div>
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>Just a Bit Too Fast</h1>
+
+<p class="ph1">By HAL MOORE</p>
+
+<p><i>Thought-and-a-half Morgan was exactly<br>
+that far ahead of his dull-witted police<br>
+pursuers—or so he thought.</i></p>
+
+<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br>
+Argosy All-Story Weekly March 16 1929.<br>
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br>
+the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>When the somewhat forlorn-looking six-cylinder touring car drew up
+across the street before the Peninsula Park branch bank, I didn't
+give it a second thought. Neither did Halloran—and if either of
+us should have noticed, he was the one. He was supposed to know
+Thought-and-a-half Morgan.</p>
+
+<p>No, neither of us gave it a thought; not until we noticed that the
+seeming-asleep young egg at the wheel had kept his motor running. Then
+we both dashed across the asphalt in a damned big hurry.</p>
+
+<p>Detective Halloran had made a thousand-mile jump to spill his story to
+my chief—the tip he had, that Thought-and-a-half was about to essay
+in our fair village of one million souls a few of the strokes that
+had brought him much notoriety throughout the nation at large—and a
+considerable price on his head. Halloran's chief back home was due for
+the sack if this looter of six banks in six days was not chucked in
+durance vile. He had sent out his star man with some info bulldozed
+from one of Morgan's minor aids.</p>
+
+<p>It was supposed to be infallible stuff; the man Morgan, who had won
+his moniker by being at least one think-and-a-fraction ahead of the
+brainiest cop that ever lived, had moved in on us. Halloran said he
+had practically the entire dope; but my chief, noting with disgust
+the opportunities taken by Halloran to advertise his own astuteness,
+and feeling pretty secure over the fact that a major job hadn't been
+pulled in our village for months, didn't lend an overly receptive ear.</p>
+
+<p>He had enough to do, speaking at Rotary and Kiwanis luncheons, and the
+like; so he merely growled: "You run around with him, Jake, and if you
+need help lemme know."</p>
+
+<p>Those had been my orders. Dashing across toward the bank with Halloran,
+I wondered if this was the time to report. Well, if it was, it was too
+late now. Morgan could have taken the bank's foundations with him if
+we laid back for reënforcements. But maybe this wouldn't be Morgan,
+I thought, tugging at my armpit to pull my gun free in a second, if
+need be. Just as Halloran and I dashed into the entryway I caught a
+side glimpse of the dude behind the wheel. He was watching us, but his
+talons were resting on the steering-wheel in plain sight. Which is
+somewhat unusual for an outside man—if he was one.</p>
+
+<p>We almost bowled over a customer or two, getting inside, but finally
+landed right side up in the bank lobby. I flashed a look around, then
+turned to Halloran. He had just completed a similar look-see. I hope I
+didn't appear as sheepish as he did.</p>
+
+<p>In brief, business was going on as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Who the hell ever said I was a cop?" grunted Halloran to me in a tone
+spilling over with disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, whoever said such a thing?" came a throaty voice behind my
+back. I couldn't see the party, but that didn't keep gooseflesh from
+prickling up on my neck. There's no mistaking the determined prod of a
+gat in the small of the back, just above the kidneys. Halloran stood
+as motionless as I, and out of the corner of my eye I could see about
+three inches of the persuader that was making a good Indian out of him.
+Our friend was evidently a two-gun man.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Halloran and one of the local talent, I believe?" The words had a
+sarcastic smirk to them. "I had an idea some one might be coming along,
+so I stopped at the desk here to write out a deposit slip. Wonderful
+device, that, for killing time and covering the back trail—and who'd
+ever suspect a nice old woman like me?"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt="">
+  <div class="caption">
+    <p>"<i>Mr. Halloran and one of the local talent, I believe?</i>"</p>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>At the risk of having my viscera spread all over the lobby from
+gunfire immediately to my rear, I took a side-wise peek at a mirror
+hanging on the far wall. You could 'a' knocked me dead when I spotted
+the reflection. Old lady was right—skirt, Sunday bonnet and all!
+This Thought-and-a-half certainly earned his nickname. If he didn't
+look like one of Punkinville's sturdy old-time housewives I'll eat my
+shoes—and they're size elevens. He'd even duplicated the little hunch
+in the shoulders that comes with age.</p>
+
+<p>Now I knew why the outside man hadn't raised a holler. He'd evidently
+worked with Thought-and-a-half before, and knew what real confidence
+should be.</p>
+
+<p>All this flashed through the old bean in far less time than it takes to
+tell it—all this and more. For I had noted also that this bank out in
+the rhubarbs of our city had, at 2.48 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> of a dull winter
+day, mighty few customers. In fact not as many were in the corridor
+as were behind the wicket windows. The boy with the guns stuck in our
+manly backs had picked his moment right.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>I wondered just when the fireworks would begin, and how. But I didn't
+have to wonder long. Folks were getting kind of curious, seeing us
+with hands in air. But no one cared to risk reaching for a gun, even
+if there happened to be one in the place. There were but three likely
+targets; two unmistakable plainclothes men in unmistakably embarrassing
+positions, and a fantastic but seemingly perfectly harmless farmwife.</p>
+
+<p>Acting as if he were having a hard time to keep from laughing, Morgan
+began his orders.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell 'em you're bulls!" snapped the voice, coldlike.</p>
+
+<p>Halloran almost strangled, getting that order out, and damned if I
+could blame him.</p>
+
+<p>"We—uh—we're police officers," he gurgled, "and
+we're—we're—uh—ordered to say that we'll—uh—protect you!"</p>
+
+<p>Some heartless gink snickered.</p>
+
+<p>It sounded from suspiciously near my coat tails.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell 'em to be good, and for that young blond teller to collect all
+the money—<i>all</i> the money—on the counters, and bring it over here
+where I can watch him every step of the way."</p>
+
+<p>The announcement was broadcast as per request.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the blond young man seemed to hesitate, and looked
+longingly at what must have been an alarm push-button.</p>
+
+<p>"Call off that fool!" rasped Thought-and-a-half.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold 'er, son!" cried Halloran. "I know this guy. He'll sink me with a
+load o' lead if you don't behave!"</p>
+
+<p>The young man—thank the Lord—changed his mind.</p>
+
+<p>With the currency in a couple of canvas sacks, as our unseen "farmwife"
+had ordered, the blond teller started across the tiled floor toward us.
+He stepped along right bravely for the first few yards, but uneasy as I
+was, with that gat prodding me in the suspender buttons, I took courage
+from watching his knees wabble the last few paces. It's no fun walking
+up to a cocky bank artist who holds two hair-trigger cannons and knows
+how to use 'em.</p>
+
+<p>But he finally got the money on the small table as directed. It lay
+right at our elbow, the table being the one selected by our temporary
+guardian for his time-killing writing stunt early in the game.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody in the bank was giving undivided attention, when Morgan sang
+out on his own accord:</p>
+
+<p>"Now, folks, if you don't want to mop up a lot of blood off'n this
+floor, you just stay mannerly until we ring down the curtain. Mr.
+Halloran here is going to remain deathly still while I remove one gun
+from his mid-section that I may divest his partner"—the same being
+me—"of all weapons. Mr. Halloran knows that if he moves, this amiable
+square-toes at his side will suddenly release all right and title to
+his spirit—Ah, thank you, Mr. Halloran.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, folks, Mr. Halloran's partner will freeze into inactivity while
+Mr. Halloran's gun is likewise extracted—Ah, thank you both! As a
+parting word of advice, don't risk a shot while I kick both these guns
+under the steam radiator that I may grab today's earnings. It might be
+awfully tough on these perfectly nice officers."</p>
+
+<p>I heard both rods clatter against the side wall, and then saw a hand
+flash out from behind me and grab the canvas sacks. A hurried clatter
+of steps, a tense "So long!" and the roar of a six-cylinder motor
+outside; it was over.</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting to cast a look over my shoulder, I scurried for that
+radiator, clomped down on my knees and pawed through a two-inch layer
+of dust that some lazy janitor had allowed to collect there.</p>
+
+<p>Halloran was abreast of me. We retrieved our guns almost at the same
+instant and dashed outside.</p>
+
+<p>Two blocks away, and taking no notice of traffic laws or anything else,
+that decrepit-looking heap was cutting the air at a fast clip. It was
+sure a deceiving cuss when it came to performance.</p>
+
+<p>We commandeered a shiny big car that was threading its way through
+traffic about three jumps from the curb, but there was a precious
+second wasted trying to get the idea through the mind of the bozo at
+the wheel. Once he did wake up, however, he sure did live up to the
+reputation of flaming youth. Not more than nineteen, perhaps, but he
+stomped a wicked accelerator.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know this blamed town of yours," howled Halloran in my ear.
+"Which way is the bimbo heading?"</p>
+
+<p>"Running parallel to the city limits now," I shouted back above the
+roar of wind and motor, "and if he keeps on, and takes the right hand
+turn about a mile ahead, he'll be hitting for the great open spaces. A
+State highway leads dead away from there."</p>
+
+<p>The kid at the wheel was doing his best to catch Thought-and-a-half's
+fleet little wreck, but he didn't have near as much at stake as did
+the parties ahead and consequently just would not take quite as many
+chances. Neither of us could take the wheel, for if we stopped to
+switch we'd be utterly out of the running.</p>
+
+<p>I held my breath when a heavily laden coal truck shot out of a cross
+street—and heaved a sigh of relief when we squeezed by at 50-per by
+a hair's breadth. Talk about the perils of down-town streets; this
+suburban traffic is all a man wants at early dusk of a cloudy winter
+afternoon, especially when chain grocery store fronts and other
+landmarks are slipping by so fast you can't count 'em.</p>
+
+<p>The sweat was streaming off my forehead, but between the drops I caught
+a glimpse of the jack rabbit we were chasing just as it turned to the
+right and out the State highway. We'd lost a lot of ground.</p>
+
+<p>"You say they're headin' out of town now?" he bellowed.</p>
+
+<p>"Check!"</p>
+
+<p>He prodded the kid on the shoulder. "Lay off, son; we're shifting our
+course."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The boy lifts his foot off the gas, and we drop down to thirty-five
+miles. Halloran turns to me, speaking low so the kid won't hear him.
+Evidently figures there's no use taking unnecessary chances.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Liberty 0310?" he asks.</p>
+
+<p>"Lodge password or telephone number?" I counters.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a fool!" he hisses.</p>
+
+<p>So I tell him: "It's one of the dumpiest rookeries in the burg. Regular
+hang-out. We call there whenever we have to, but we try to make 'em
+feel it's a safe hide-out; generally make our pinches several blocks
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"That's where we go now," he barks. And he turns the kid around in the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>At nineteen one can get a thrill out of helping cops chase prison
+fodder, so the kid readily agrees to cart us down town.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't waste a minute," Halloran growls at me when I protest that the
+taxis are still running.</p>
+
+<p>"What's eatin' ya now?" I glowers. His highhanded tactics are kinda
+getting on my nerves. "'Fore we went out on this little jaunt you were
+tellin' me what a whirlwind you were back home; and yet this Morgan guy
+slips it over on ya like it had been rehearsed.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's all this brainwork you admitted bein' capable of?
+From what I've seen to date, that guinea's name could be
+Two-thousand-Thoughts-ahead Morgan, so far as you're concerned.
+One-and-a-half ain't near enough."</p>
+
+<p>I was getting kind of sore.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorta forget, don't ya, that your hands were just as high as mine?" he
+jeers.</p>
+
+<p>But quickly enough he comes to earth again.</p>
+
+<p>"We lifted that phone number off the dopey back home," he explains.
+"The boy didn't kick through with quite everything, but we found it
+on a card tucked away in the sweatband of his hat. There's no Liberty
+phone exchange in our burg, so we played a hunch it was here."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe your speedy friend has the low-down by now," I suggests, "and
+has shifted hotels."</p>
+
+<p>"A chance," he agrees, "but a slim one. Nobody knows we got the dopey,
+and he can't get a whisper outside."</p>
+
+<p>"Card have anything else on it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Room number," Halloran grunts, "311."</p>
+
+<p>I guessed that Thought-and-a-half must have things figured out in
+advance, something like a circus or road-show. That is, if Halloran's
+dope was straight.</p>
+
+<p>If it wasn't, we had lost him anyway; and if it was, we'd be waiting
+for our bird when he swung back into town. I only hoped he wouldn't be
+too long about finding out that he'd ducked us.</p>
+
+<p>For safety's sake, once we got down town after a speedy dash past all
+kinds of traffic signals, I stopped the kid several blocks from the
+dump where Morgan was supposed to bunk.</p>
+
+<p>"Better play safe and call some help," I suggests, as we sidle through
+the 4.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't risk wasting a second," Halloran shoots back. "Our friends will
+cut back here just as soon as they can, if they ever do come. Besides,
+why have a bunch of signboards out for them to see? They can spot a
+dick as far as you or I can."</p>
+
+<p>Sounded reasonable to me. Besides, the chief had said responsibility
+was Halloran's; I was merely reënforcements. If this bimbo was willing
+to risk shooting it out in a dark room, I'm not the guy to holler
+yellow.</p>
+
+<p>"Know the back way in?" Halloran mutters at my elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Who in hell d'yuh think you're with?" I snarls. "I've worn a buzzer
+long enough to have a little sense, feller!"</p>
+
+<p>Just then we ducked into an alleged office and loft building. He knew
+enough not to talk back; you can never tell what a guy at the other end
+of a hallway might overhear.</p>
+
+<p>Up one, two, then four flights of stairs we climbed. We climbed out on
+the tar and gravel and eased our panting lungs under the canopy of
+stars and coal smoke.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>We tried to limp down those iron steps quietly, but we must have made
+some noise, for a window slid open just a few feet away.</p>
+
+<p>I couldn't see who it was, but neither could he, or she, see us.
+Knowing the breed of cats that frequent the dump, I didn't feel rude
+at all in whispering: "Hey, you—we think we've shaken the bulls; but
+if they come after us, tell 'em we went <i>down</i> the fire escape—and
+they'll beat it out over the roofs."</p>
+
+<p>Whoever it was in the room gave a little chuckle. No offense taken, it
+seemed. They suffered no illusions as to police ideas on their veracity.</p>
+
+<p>At the third floor we found a hallway window open, and in we slipped.
+The room wasn't hard to find, even in the semidarkness that must have
+covered a multitude of sins—some of which smelled rather vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>Risking a dose of hot lead, I tried the door. It was locked. Halloran,
+the self-confessed fast worker, already had a key out. The second one
+worked, and I think we both got a big enough thrill when we slid into
+that room behind a flash light's beam. No sooner had the door shut
+behind us than Halloran grinned triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"All we have to do is wait. There's the evidence." He pointed to a
+half dozen black knitted neckties strung over the bureau mirror.
+Thought-and-a-half, I deduced, favored black knits. Well, they are sort
+of inconspicuous when worn one at a time.</p>
+
+<p>Remembering that the chief's orders originally had been to "run around
+with him," I gladly assented to the reception plan proposed by this
+star sleuth we had in our midst. Hadn't he admitted himself, at least
+ten or twelve times since I had drawn him for a play-mate, that he was
+a fast thinker, and a good one?</p>
+
+<p>And if it was to be part of the plan that I stand immediately back
+of him when Thought-and-a-half opened the door, if that kingpin of
+crookdom ever did open said door, why should I protest? Halloran's two
+hundred pounds would stop the average bullet, and at least slow down
+some of the more vigorous projectiles. Me being a man of family, I
+listen readily to reason.</p>
+
+<p>Halloran figured it out—and, for once, I agreed with him—that there
+would be but one comparatively safe spot in all that room should a
+gunman bust in across the threshold. As the door itself would bang
+against the sidewall when full opened, that position was automatically
+wiped off the books. No one wants to be caught behind a door if the
+intruder decides first to kick it wide open, and then shower lead on
+whatever keeps the porcelain knob from crashing into the plaster.</p>
+
+<p>That left only two walls against which to brace your back—unless you
+cared to hide under the bed. I once helped sweep up a dick who thought
+he'd wait beneath an Ostermoor for a certain party; never for mine!</p>
+
+<p>If you selected the wall that would be on the entrant's left, and there
+happened to be a hall light aglow over his shoulder, chances were you'd
+eat lead in a hurry. And Thought-and-a-half was pretty skookum with a
+rod. I had already decided the left wall was not so good, when Halloran
+informs me in a tense whisper of something I would have done anyway, if
+left alone.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll back against the wall just opposite the door," he squeaks, "and
+dodge most of the light that may flood in when he enters. I'll work the
+flash light. You stand right behind me, and between the two of us we
+ought to get that guy."</p>
+
+<p>Heroic stuff, thinks I; and snaps out: "Did you lock that door after
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hell, no," he confesses, and tip-toes across the floor to rectify the
+error. Wouldn't the coroner have had a fine mess on his hands if our
+friend Thought-and-a-half found he wouldn't need his key!</p>
+
+<p>That was the longest half hour I ever spent. It got sort of tiresome,
+standing there in one position. And we had to stay quiet or else the
+party might leave a sour taste in our mouths.</p>
+
+<p>But listening for noises put the old ear right in tune. I was hearing
+everything that happened, and some things that weren't. Occasionally
+a pair of feet would catfoot warily through the building somewhere. I
+was listening to such a pair on the floor above when suddenly it seemed
+the hum of street traffic increased. The street door had opened; two
+persons were coming up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>I nudged Halloran, and we wiped the sweat off our palms so there'd be
+no chance of a gun butt slipping at a critical moment. I sensed that
+this particular pair of moving feet meant action for us.</p>
+
+<p>And I was right.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>slop, slop, slop</i> of leather soles on well-worn carpeting kept
+coming our way, up two flights of stairs and then down the hall toward
+the room in which we were. Halloran's big bulk was quivering. Give
+him credit for having courage; it wasn't fear, but the suspense and
+excitement of it all that jelly-fished his bulky muscles. The man's
+nerves were right on edge. He was shaking as bad as—as bad as—aw,
+hell, you've been nervous yourself; you know how I felt, right about
+that time!</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Of a sudden there came, through the thin door, a grunted, "Lay off that
+match. What if there was somebody in the room?"</p>
+
+<p>To which a more suppliant voice made answer: "Not a chance. We ditched
+'em proper, and they can't know about this dump!"</p>
+
+<p>But Number One, and I knew it was Thought-and-a-half the way Halloran
+fidgeted when he heard the voice, naturally ruled the roost. There was
+no sound of striking matches.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, a soft hand touched the doorknob, which rattled faintly. After
+that test, a key rasped in the lock.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly, so slowly that it seemed ages, the door swung inward in
+the near-total darkness.</p>
+
+<p>I felt Halloran's back muscles contract as he swung his left arm
+upward—his left hand held the flash light.</p>
+
+<p>Then his growling command:</p>
+
+<p>"Stick 'em up there, Morgan!"</p>
+
+<p>Immediately the doorway was flooded in a circle of light that revealed
+a nervously alert figure with a wicked-looking automatic clutched in
+one tense hand—a hand never known to miss.</p>
+
+<p>I almost groaned aloud. Halloran, the poor fat-head, instead of holding
+the light at arm's length to the left, where it would decoy possible
+return fire, had it clutched tightly to his belly.</p>
+
+<p>Thought-and-a-half didn't wait an instant. A purple-orange jet of fire
+almost a mile long and bright as Halley's comet streaked from his gun
+muzzle, and my ears rang with a report that, echoed in the small room,
+sounded like a complete explosion of the DuPont powder works.</p>
+
+<p>Almost simultaneously a gun roared under my nose, and I knew that
+Halloran had returned the fire. I was about to pull the trigger of my
+own weapon when I saw the bandit chief's pistol fly from his hand, and
+he stood for a photographic moment as if paralyzed.</p>
+
+<p>With a roar I charged across the room, pushing Halloran's two hundred
+pounds ahead of me. But he had caught the same thing I had seen:
+Morgan's gun arm was numb from the shock of having his gat knocked from
+his hand by Halloran's bullet. Unable to fire at us without hitting his
+buddy, Thought-and-a-half's confederate turned to flee as he saw us
+hurtle across the small space. But he didn't quite clear the scene of
+action.</p>
+
+<p>Three bodies—Halloran's and mine, pushing Thought-and-a-half ahead of
+us—crashed through the doorway and into him. The bellow that startled
+from his throat died a borning as he banged against the opposite wall
+in the hallway.</p>
+
+<p>Two or three swings with our clubbed guns, and we had a pretty tame
+pair of birds on our hands.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan, the leader, was first to recover.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's that," he snarled, "but how in hell I missed potting you
+when you flashed that light is beyond me! I savvy this copper trick of
+holding the flash light out to the left, and I always plug for an arm's
+length to the opposite side and know I'll hit the body. But to-night I
+didn't connect." He almost moaned the last sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Halloran threw out his chest. He basked in the glow of an implied
+compliment. But he couldn't help rubbing it in.</p>
+
+<p>"You were up against a boy just a little speedier in the brain pan,
+Thought-and-a-half! I figured you'd shoot that way, and I held it up
+against my body to throw you off. Just goes to show there's almost some
+one who can think a little faster!"</p>
+
+<p>I almost believed him. Then, suddenly, I caught sight of something
+interesting. "Fast thinking, hell!" I cried out. "I'd say it was no
+thinking at all!"</p>
+
+<p>And I pointed to the front of his vest.</p>
+
+<p>There, suspended by a tiny gleaming rope, hung Halloran's flash light.
+The darned thing had caught in his ornate watch chain, and he couldn't
+have moved it if he'd tried!</p>
+
+<p>But that was the only thing I said. Let the lying old blowhard take all
+the credit for something he never meant to do. If it hadn't been for
+his thick skull, and that watch chain, I'd have been dead as slavery.</p>
+
+<p>I should complain!</p>
+
+
+<p class="ph2">THE END</p>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77031 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77031
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77031)