|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 32
He shook his fists vehemently.
"Oh, no, Mr. Winthrop, it won't do--you make a good witness.
I wouldn't ask for no better, but, you don't fool `Izzy'
Schwab."
"You're mistaken, I tell you," cried Winthrop desperately.
"He may look like--like this man you speak of, but no Peabody
was in this car."
"Izzy" Schwab wrung his hands hysterically.
"No, he wasn't!" he cried, "because he run away! And left an
old man in the street--dead, for all he knowed--nor cared
neither. Yah!" shrieked the Tammany heeler. "HIM a
Reformer, yah!"
"Stand away from my car," shouted Winthrop, "or you'll get
hurt."
"Yah, you'd like to, wouldn't you?" returned Mr. Schwab,
leaping, nimbly to one side. "What do you think the
Journal'll give me for that story, hey? `Ernest Peabody,
the Reformer, Kills an Old Man, AND RUNS AWAY.' And hiding
his face, too! I seen him. What do you think that story's
worth to Tammany, hey? It's worth twenty thousand votes!"
The young man danced in front of the car triumphantly,
mockingly, in a frenzy of malice. "Read the extras, that's
all," he taunted. "Read 'em in an hour from now!"
Winthrop glared at the shrieking figure with fierce, impotent
rage; then, with a look of disgust, he flung the robe off his
knees and rose. Mr. Schwab, fearing bodily injury, backed
precipitately behind the policeman.
"Come here," commanded Winthrop softly. Mr. Schwab warily
approached. "That story," said Winthrop, dropping his voice
to a low whisper, "is worth a damn sight more to you than
twenty thousand votes. You take a spin with me up Riverside
Drive where we can talk. Maybe you and I can `make a little
business.'"
At the words, the face of Mr. Schwab first darkened angrily,
and then, lit with such exultation that it appeared as though
Winthrop's efforts had only placed Peabody deeper in Mr.
Schwab's power. But the rat-like eyes wavered, there was
doubt in them, and greed, and, when they turned to observe if
any one could have heard the offer, Winthrop felt the trick
was his. It was apparent that Mr. Schwab was willing to
arbitrate.
He stepped gingerly into the front seat, and as Winthrop
leaned over him and tucked and buckled the fur robe around his
knees, he could not resist a glance at his friends on the
sidewalk. They were grinning with wonder and envy, and as the
great car shook itself, and ran easily forward, Mr. Schwab
leaned back and carelessly waved his hand. But his mind did
not waver from the purpose of his ride. He was not one to be
cajoled with fur rugs and glittering brass.
"Well, Mr. Winthrop," he began briskly. "You want to say
something? You must be quick--every minute's money."
"Wait till we're out of the traffic," begged Winthrop
anxiously "I don't want to run down any more old men, and I
wouldn't for the world have anything happen to you, Mr.--" He
paused politely.
"Schwab--Isadore Schwab."
"How did you know MY name?" asked Winthrop.
"The card you gave the police officer"
"I see," said Winthrop. They were silent while the car swept
swiftly west, and Mr. Schwab kept thinking that for a young
man who was afraid of the traffic, Winthrop was dodging the
motor cars, beer vans, and iron pillars, with a dexterity that
was criminally reckless.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|