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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +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 +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..45d428c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66387 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66387) diff --git a/old/66387-0.txt b/old/66387-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8bfcf1a..0000000 --- a/old/66387-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,874 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pink Ears, by Murray Leinster - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Pink Ears - -Author: Murray Leinster - -Release Date: September 28, 2021 [eBook #66387] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PINK EARS *** - - - PINK EARS - - by Murray Leinster - - - - - I - - -The Stratford is a hotel for men only, and has the air of quiet -seclusion that usually is associated with a conservative club. The -lobby is small and far from ornate. The smoking-room is large and -comfortable. The dining-room is low-ceilinged and quaint,—a place -where one can smoke comfortably,—and the kitchen produces viands that -are worth a special trip to taste. Altogether, the Stratford is a -place for those who want comfort, quiet, and the best of everything. - -James Craig, from his air of well-being, had enjoyed it to the full. -An hour before, he had arisen from his table with that sensation of -internal comfort that can come only from a well-ordered and -well-cooked meal. He had chosen a cigar with discrimination, and -lighted it with care. He had spent possibly twenty minutes or more in -the smoking-room, idling over his newspaper in comfortable repletion, -and then had scribbled a note at a writing-desk. With the methodical -air of one to whom life is an excuse for the perpetration of -systematic actions, he drew out a small notebook and extracted a -stamp. He affixed the stamp and made a note in the book. It read: - - Postage on letter to firm $ .02 - -The note was just beneath three others: - - Dinner $3.45 - Tip .25 - Cigar .25 - -He reached toward a button to summon a bell-boy, and then changed his -mind. It was almost possible to read his thoughts by his actions. He -glanced out of the window nearby, and saw the last golden rays of the -evening sun striking upon street and passersby. One who watched him -would have guessed at his mental processes so:— - -“I’ll have a bell-boy mail this.... No.... This is a beautiful day.... -A walk after dinner will do me good.... I’ll stroll out and mail it, -or stroll out, anyway....” - -He tucked the envelope carefully in his pocket, rose, and sauntered -out of the doorway. He moved slowly, carelessly, idling with the -relish of a man who finds little time to idle. - -He was gone for less than ten minutes altogether. When he came back in -the door and passed through the lobby his expression had grown subtly -more content. The ten-minutes’ exercise had “shaken down” his dinner, -his cigar had proved all that the brand warranted, and he was at peace -with the world. As he made his way into the elevator he was even -humming a little. - -“Three,” he commented, as the car shot upward. “By the way, is there a -good show in town tonight?” - -“Yessuh, Ah reg’n so. Dey usual’ is. Y’might ax at de desk.” - -The elevator-door clanged open at the third floor and he went out. The -elevator-boy saw him fitting a key into the lock of his room. He was -still humming. The elevator-door shut, and the cage dropped to the -lobby floor again. - -“Gosh,” said the elevator-boy to his _confrére_, the chief bell-hop. -“Dem trabelin’ men sho’ has it easy. Dey goes to de shows an’ jes’ -chahges it in d’ expense account. Y’ bettuh tote out half a pint. Dis -gen’leman in three-eighty looks lak he mought be intrusted.” - -The chief bell-hop rose. - -“Bress Gawd fo’ Prohibition,” he commented piously. “Ef t’wasn’t fo’ -de law, us hotel-help would hab t’ live on ouah tips.” - -He sauntered into a small private closet and a little later stepped -briskly up the stairs. It was certainly not more than two minutes from -the time the elevator-boy saw Craig unlock the door, humming a little, -to the time the bell-hop knocked softly. But where the elevator-boy -carried away an impression of carefree contentment and casual cheer, -the bell-hop straightened involuntarily when he heard a voice from -within. - -“Come in!” - -The voice was a harsh croak, a rasping gasp, metallic and unhuman. The -bell-hop pushed open the door cautiously and peered in. The room -looked as if a whirlwind had struck it. Sheets, rugs, pillow-cases -were thrown helter-skelter about the place, and at the moment James -Craig was on his knees before a suit-case. Where he had looked -carefree and at peace with the world, he now looked ghastly. His face -was a pasty, chalky white. His eyes seemed to have sunk into his head, -and they stared at the bell-hop with a strange deadness. - -“I’ve been robbed!” he croaked harshly. “I’ve been robbed!” - -The bell-hop ducked instinctively. - -“Bress Gawd!” he gasped. “Y’ don’ mean it!” - -A choked sob burst from the throat of the chalky-faced man. - -“I’ve been robbed!” he repeated in a certain strange calm. Then he -sobbed again, his whole body writhing with the sound. “My God! Eighty -thousand dollars!” - -The bell-hop jumped a foot in the air at mention of that sum and -departed swiftly. The result of his flight was seen a moment later in -a pale and worried desk-clerk who came hurriedly into the room. Craig -was moving dumbly about, looking hopelessly here, there—everywhere. - -“You—you’ve been robbed, sir?” - -“Eighty thousand dollars!” Craig seemed stunned by the calamity. “I’m -ruined! Ruined! Eighty thousand dollars!” - -He sat down suddenly in a chair and stared before him with lack-lustre -eyes. The desk-clerk, alarmed as he was for the reputation of the -house, could not but feel sympathy for the man who had changed so -absolutely in so few minutes. His very lips were gray. His eyes seemed -to have retreated deep into his skull. His voice was a pitiable parody -of a living man’s voice. It was dead, harsh, lifeless. - -“Carrying bonds from New Orleans to New York,” he said dully. “Nobody -knew I had ’em. Can’t sleep on trains, and stopped over here to have a -night’s rest. I went out for dinner.... The bonds are gone.” - -“I’ll send for the police,” the desk-clerk assured him. “We’ve a -splendid detective force here. If anybody could find them, Jamison -can.” - -Craig’s fingers unclenched and he automatically began to look through -the articles in his suit-case again, in the utterly forlorn hope that -he might yet be mistaken, and might yet find the bonds. - -“Eighty thousand dollars!” he said apathetically. “I’m ruined! They’ll -suspect me, even me, of stealing them. And nobody knew I had them!” He -groaned. “Nobody knew I had them!” - -The clerk slipped from the room and telephoned frantically, while he -gave orders that assured the continued presence of every one of the -hotel employees and a careful note of every guest who left the place. -He would be able to give the police a list of every man who slipped -out, and would be able to produce all the hotel help. It was quick and -efficient work. But once that was done, the desk-clerk allowed himself -to think sympathetically of the man in the room above. He had seen -Craig stroll into the elevator, pleasantly flushed by his dinner and -walk. And now that chalk-white man with sunken eyes, croaking of ruin -and disgrace.... - -The desk-clerk shook his head in genuine regret. - - - - - II - - -A rather shabby young man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth -strolled into the room without the formality of knocking. He nodded -ungraciously at Craig. - -“I’m Jamison,” he said gloomily. “Police Headquarters. They sent me -down to find out about this robbery. What’s up?” - -Craig, no more than the wreck of the debonair man of a half hour -before, told his story, with his eyes glowing strangely from sunken -sockets. Jamison listened from a comfortable chair, gazing at the -ceiling. - -“Y’ went out?” he queried, when Craig had finished. “Why didn’t you -leave the bonds in the hotel safe?” - -“I should have,” groaned Craig wretchedly. “But no one knew I had them -with me. Only the president of my firm and myself knew I had them. We -thought that if I just went on up to New York quite casually, as if on -an ordinary business trip, there’d be no suspicion of my having -anything valuable with me. God! If I’d only known!” - -“How long were you gone?” asked Jamison, fishing in his baggy pockets -for tobacco and paper to roll another cigarette. - -“I don’t know,” said Craig despairingly. “I finished my dinner, wrote -a note, and went out to the street. I asked the way to the nearest -mail box and dropped my letter in. Then I came back, came up to my -room, and the bonds were gone! I’m ruined! I’ll be suspected of -stealing them myself!” - -Jamison yawned and rolled a cigarette with one hand, watching his own -fingers with the absorbed attention of one who has but recently -acquired the feat. - -“Well,” he said in a moment, after licking the paper. “I guess we’ve -got a job ahead of us. What train did you come in on?” - -“I got in about four-thirty.” - -“That’s number twenty-seven,” commented Jamison. “You came to the -hotel right away?” - -“Yes. I registered, washed up, had my dinner, and——” - -“Bonds negotiable?” queried Jamison uninterestedly. “What issue and -numbers?” - -Craig told him. - -“N.O. and W. 4½s,” Jamison yawned again. “Twenty-nine four -eighty-seven to twenty-nine five twenty-two. All right.” - -Craig rose as Jamison stood up negligently. Craig looked like a wreck. -His face was a sickly white and his eyes burned from cavernous depths. -His lips were trembling a little. - -“They’re going to suspect me!” he said desperately. “Only one man -beside myself knew I had those bonds. They’re gone—stolen. Man, you’ve -got to clear me! Search me, search the room! Put me under arrest. Do -something!” - -“I’ll put you under surveillance,” said Jamison, “if you like.” He -yawned. “Just to prove to your firm you didn’t hide out on ’em. I’ll -send a man up in a little while.” - -“I can give an account of every movement since I’ve been in the city,” -said Craig suddenly. “Look here. I keep an account of all my -expenditures. You can check me up. Here’s my dinner. Here’s the tip, -and a postage-stamp on the letter to my firm. Here’s a magazine I -bought.... You can check up the time on every one of them. You can -trace my movements that way.” - -Jamison glanced uninterestedly at the open page held in Craig’s -shaking hand. - -“Don’t get so excited,” he said grouchily. “Don’t y’ know that if you -had swiped the stuff you’d have faked a book like that?” - -He eyed the page for a moment and sat down again, as if a new chain of -questioning had occurred to him. - -“Say, do you often come through here?” he inquired. - -“Yes, on an average of once a month.” - -“Stop at this hotel?” - -“Yes....” Craig began to look hopeful. “Do you suppose some one of the -help—” - -“How big a package were the bonds?” - -“There were eighty of them. They’d make quite a wad of paper.” - -“Make a man’s pocket bulge out?” - -“Surely.” - -“The hotel-clerk kept all the employees waiting,” observed Jamison. -“I’ll take a look. Was your place much messed up when you got back?” - -“Practically like this. I left the bonds in my suit-case. When I -opened the door I saw the place was torn upside down, everything -thrown all about.” - -“You’d left your suit-case open?” queried Jamison. “They’d look in -there first....” - -“The bonds were under a shirt—in the folds of a shirt. At first glance -they wouldn’t seem to be there.” - -Jamison puffed thoughtfully for a moment. - -“Ever use your firm’s stationery here?” - -“Yes. Why?” - -“Just thinking,” said Jamison. “You see, if you dropped a letter-head -in a waste-basket, whoever cleaned up the room might connect you -up.... Say, your firm is a bank. You come through every so often. -Suppose you leave a letter-head. Banks sometimes send currency from -one place to another by messenger. A chambermaid or bell-hop might -notice....” - -Craig’s face brightened. Jamison wore an air of innocent pride. - -“You have to think of those things,” he said modestly. “I’ll tell you. -You go down and get the desk-clerk and a cop. Tell the desk-clerk to -have the darkies that clean up this floor come in, one by one. Come -back with the clerk and the cop.” - -Craig obediently started for the door, hesitated, glanced back, and -then went out. Jamison allowed himself the luxury of a grunt when the -door closed, and the expression of innocent pride vanished utterly -from his features, leaving them somewhat bored and entirely disgusted. - -“Sloppy work,” he commented gloomily, to himself. “I wonder where he -keeps his shaving-soap. That’s the answer, ten to one.” - -He began to rummage in Craig’s suit-case. - - - - - III - - -When Craig pushed open the door again with the room-clerk and the -policeman, Jamison was standing by the bureau, where there was a -light. He seemed to be examining something in his hand. Craig looked -vastly more hopeful, though his face was still a deadly white and his -eyes were still sunken deeply into his head. - -“This officer,” he announced, “saw me when I went out to mail that -letter. Tell him about it, Officer.” - -“I saw him mail a letter, sorr,” said the policeman. “I was standin’ -by the mail-box whin he come up. He axed me for a light, sorr, and -lighted his cigar with it. It had gone out. Thin he put his letter in -the box. ’Twas a small letter, sorr, in one av th’ hotel envelopes.” - -Jamison nodded uninterestedly. - -“Oh, all right,” he said wearily. “Nobody thought he mailed ’em away -and then called for the police to find ’em. Say,” he turned to the -hotel-clerk, “when did you open up this part of the hotel?” - -“About six months ago.” - -“New help?” queried Jamison. He sank into a chair and yawned. - -“Partly,” said the clerk. “The chambermaid’s been here a long time. -The cleaner for this floor is Sam Whitehouse. You know him, I think. -He’s a pretty good negro. Been fined a couple of times for shooting -craps, but that’s all.” - -Jamison sat up. - -“Sam Whitehouse!” he said with more energy than he had displayed -before. “Why didn’t you say so before? Look here.” - -He took an envelope from his pocket and scribbled a few words on the -back, then handed it to the officer. - -“You can attend to it better than anyone else,” he commented. “See to -it, won’t you? I’ll wait here.” - -He lay back in his chair and frowned at the clerk. - -“I wish you hotel people wouldn’t hire known criminals,” he -complained. “They’re always making trouble. If there’s a smart darky -in the city, it’s that same Sam. He’d steal the brass plate off a -coffin—and get away with it. I guess we’ll have him now, though....” - -He rolled a cigarette and puffed gloomily on it until the policeman -returned. - -“Got him, sorr. An’ he had the bonds. A thick wad av thim, sorr.” - -Craig sprang to his feet. - -“What!” - -“He’s got the bonds,” said Jamison wearily. “You see, I guessed right -when I said you’d probably left a letter-head or something. He just -waited for you to come back to town and went through your room.” - -Craig’s face was a puzzle for an instant, and then he sank back into -his seat and mopped his forehead, patting it with his handkerchief. - -“Thank God!” he gasped. - -“Well, we’re through,” said Jamison. “Not much of a case, this. You -can get your bonds in the morning at the police station.” - -He strolled out the door with the policeman and room-clerk. Craig -watched the door close behind them and sprang to his feet in a -noiseless bound. - -“Good God!” he muttered, desperately. “How—how—” - -In a catlike leap he sprang to the cheap bureau in the room. With a -jerk he pulled out an empty drawer. He stared at it for an instant, -and then brought it down with a crash upon his knee, splintering the -bottom utterly. The real bottom of the drawer came out in fragments, -and a layer of veneer that fitted neatly over it was twisted and -wrecked as well. And tumbling out upon the floor were the eighty -neatly engraved bonds, fallen from their hiding place in the neatly -contrived false bottom, just where Craig had placed them two hours -before. And yet— - -“I thought so,” said Jamison’s voice wearily. “It was a sloppy job.” - -There was an infinitely bright flash and the room was full of smoke. - - - - - IV - - -“You’re mugged, now,” observed Jamison. “I guess a flash-light picture -will go well in court....” - -“His ears were pink,” explained Jamison, his tone indicating the -ultimate of boredom. “His ears were nice and pink. That gave him -away.” - -Craig was huddled in a chair in the police-station. The big policeman -stood guard beside him and the desk-sergeant listened sympathetically -to Jamison’s tale of woe. - -“My Gawd,” said Jamison disgustedly. “I haven’t seen a really neat job -in so long you’d think everybody with brains had turned honest. Look -at him, now. He passed through here once a month for six months or so, -carrying stuff from New Orleans to New York and back. He was a regular -at the hotel, and the clerk always gave him the same room, and he saw -it had one o’ these cheap made-by-the-million bureaus in it. And he -set to work from that!” - -He flung away his perpetual cigarette and grunted. - -“He took some measurements of the inside, an’ got a piece of veneer to -fit the bottom of one of the drawers. Then, today, he climbed off the -train, went to the hotel, took his bonds and laid ’em, neat, in the -drawer, trimmed up his veneer to fit exactly, and glued it down on top -of ’em. To look at it, it was a perfectly empty drawer, and nobody -looks for secret compartments in hotel furniture, particularly of the -made-by-the-million kind. He wandered downstairs, ate his dinner while -the glue dried, smoked a cigar, and went back up to his room and -yelled bloody murder. He thought he’d get away with the story that his -room had been robbed while he was out!” - -The desk-sergeant shook his head sympathetically. - -“Tst! Tst!...” he said commiseratingly. - -“He had a good make-up on” commented Jamison morosely. “He looked like -the wrath o’ Gawd, and he played his part pretty well, but he overdid -it, of course. Showed me a notebook to check up his movements by—and -he’d made an entry in it while there was a bit of glue on his finger. -The smudge told a lot, since I’d already made up my mind he was tryin’ -to steal from himself. Say”—he addressed the prisoner—“were you -thinkin’ maybe your firm would prosecute you for the theft and be -unable to get a conviction for lack of evidence?” - -The prisoner seemed to shrink a little farther into himself, but did -not reply. - -“That was it,” said Jamison gloomily. “Once he’d been tried, you know, -they couldn’t have done a thing no matter how much proof they got that -he had recovered and was selling the bonds later.” - -“He gave himself away, you say?” the desk-sergeant asked. - -“Dead away,” admitted Jamison depressedly. “I knew he’d done it, the -minute I first saw him, and if that wasn’t enough, I sent him out to -get the room-clerk and he stopped in the doorway to take a last look -straight where he’d put the bonds. And the first place he looked when -he came back was the same spot. It was a shame to pinch him, he was so -innocent.” - -“But can you jug him?” queried the desk-sergeant. - -“Jug him? I could hang him,” asserted Jamison in the profoundest -disgust. “I got Murphy to frame a story that he’d found the bonds on a -bell-hop, and when Murphy—” - -“Me name’s O’Ryan, sorr,” interrupted the policeman. - -“When O’Ryan sprang the plant and we went out, Craig went straight to -look at the bonds and make sure they were safe. All I had to do was -take Murph—O’Ryan by the hand and wait two minutes and then swing in -the door and pull a flash-pistol. I had Craig neatly mugged with the -bonds in his hands. Could I jug him, I ask you?” - -“You could,” agreed the desk-sergeant. “But you keep saying all along -that you knew he’d hidden out the bonds. How’d you know that?” - -“His ears were pink,” said Jamison wearily. “If you saw a man who’d -just been robbed of a fortune, you’d expect him to look sort of pale, -wouldn’t you?” - -“I would that.” - -“This man was made up pretty good. His eyes looked sunk way back in -his head, and he was pale to just the right extent. He put over the -voice stuff pretty well, too. He’d made himself up with number one -dead white, that he carried in his shaving-soap tube, but he’d left -his ears pink, a nice, healthy pink. And I had only to take one look -to know what was up.” - -“’Twas careless,” said the desk-sergeant. - -“Careless? It was criminal!” Jamison seemed to be mourning over the -decay of crime. “I haven’t had a real good case in a coon’s age. -Crooks haven’t got brains any more.” - -And he shook his head in the most abysmal gloom. - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the April, 1922 -issue of _The Black Mask_ magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PINK EARS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/66387-0.zip b/old/66387-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 39e9762..0000000 --- a/old/66387-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66387-h.zip b/old/66387-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f7dc419..0000000 --- a/old/66387-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66387-h/66387-h.htm b/old/66387-h/66387-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 623d22a..0000000 --- a/old/66387-h/66387-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,976 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pink Ears, by Murray Leinster</title> - <meta name='cover' content='images/cover.jpg' /> - <meta name='title' content='Pink Ears' /> - <meta name='author' content='Murray Leinster' /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - td { text-align:right; border:0; padding:0; } - td:first-child { text-align:left; } - table { width:20em; margin-left:2em; margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:0.5em; } - .tn { font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; } - .tn p { text-indent:0 } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pink Ears, by Murray Leinster</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Pink Ears</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Murray Leinster</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 28, 2021 [eBook #66387]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PINK EARS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; '> -<h1 style='font-size:1.4em;'>PINK EARS</h1> -<div style='font-size:1.1em;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:2em;'>by Murray Leinster </div> -</div> -<h2>I </h2> - -<p>The Stratford is a hotel for men only, and has the air of quiet -seclusion that usually is associated with a conservative club. The -lobby is small and far from ornate. The smoking-room is large and -comfortable. The dining-room is low-ceilinged and quaint,—a place -where one can smoke comfortably,—and the kitchen produces viands that -are worth a special trip to taste. Altogether, the Stratford is a -place for those who want comfort, quiet, and the best of everything.</p> - -<p>James Craig, from his air of well-being, had enjoyed it to the full. -An hour before, he had arisen from his table with that sensation of -internal comfort that can come only from a well-ordered and -well-cooked meal. He had chosen a cigar with discrimination, and -lighted it with care. He had spent possibly twenty minutes or more in -the smoking-room, idling over his newspaper in comfortable repletion, -and then had scribbled a note at a writing-desk. With the methodical -air of one to whom life is an excuse for the perpetration of -systematic actions, he drew out a small notebook and extracted a -stamp. He affixed the stamp and made a note in the book. It read:</p> - -<table> - <tr><td>Postage on letter to firm</td><td>$ .02</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The note was just beneath three others:</p> - -<table> - <tr><td>Dinner</td><td>$3.45</td></tr> - <tr><td>Tip</td><td>.25</td></tr> - <tr><td>Cigar</td><td>.25</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>He reached toward a button to summon a bell-boy, and then changed his -mind. It was almost possible to read his thoughts by his actions. He -glanced out of the window nearby, and saw the last golden rays of the -evening sun striking upon street and passersby. One who watched him -would have guessed at his mental processes so:—</p> - -<p>“I’ll have a bell-boy mail this.... No.... This is a beautiful day.... -A walk after dinner will do me good.... I’ll stroll out and mail it, -or stroll out, anyway....”</p> - -<p>He tucked the envelope carefully in his pocket, rose, and sauntered -out of the doorway. He moved slowly, carelessly, idling with the -relish of a man who finds little time to idle.</p> - -<p>He was gone for less than ten minutes altogether. When he came back in -the door and passed through the lobby his expression had grown subtly -more content. The ten-minutes’ exercise had “shaken down” his dinner, -his cigar had proved all that the brand warranted, and he was at peace -with the world. As he made his way into the elevator he was even -humming a little.</p> - -<p>“Three,” he commented, as the car shot upward. “By the way, is there a -good show in town tonight?”</p> - -<p>“Yessuh, Ah reg’n so. Dey usual’ is. Y’might ax at de desk.”</p> - -<p>The elevator-door clanged open at the third floor and he went out. The -elevator-boy saw him fitting a key into the lock of his room. He was -still humming. The elevator-door shut, and the cage dropped to the -lobby floor again.</p> - -<p>“Gosh,” said the elevator-boy to his <i>confrére</i>, the chief bell-hop. -“Dem trabelin’ men sho’ has it easy. Dey goes to de shows an’ jes’ -chahges it in d’ expense account. Y’ bettuh tote out half a pint. Dis -gen’leman in three-eighty looks lak he mought be intrusted.”</p> - -<p>The chief bell-hop rose.</p> - -<p>“Bress Gawd fo’ Prohibition,” he commented piously. “Ef t’wasn’t fo’ -de law, us hotel-help would hab t’ live on ouah tips.”</p> - -<p>He sauntered into a small private closet and a little later stepped -briskly up the stairs. It was certainly not more than two minutes from -the time the elevator-boy saw Craig unlock the door, humming a little, -to the time the bell-hop knocked softly. But where the elevator-boy -carried away an impression of carefree contentment and casual cheer, -the bell-hop straightened involuntarily when he heard a voice from -within.</p> - -<p>“Come in!”</p> - -<p>The voice was a harsh croak, a rasping gasp, metallic and unhuman. The -bell-hop pushed open the door cautiously and peered in. The room -looked as if a whirlwind had struck it. Sheets, rugs, pillow-cases -were thrown helter-skelter about the place, and at the moment James -Craig was on his knees before a suit-case. Where he had looked -carefree and at peace with the world, he now looked ghastly. His face -was a pasty, chalky white. His eyes seemed to have sunk into his head, -and they stared at the bell-hop with a strange deadness.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been robbed!” he croaked harshly. “I’ve been robbed!”</p> - -<p>The bell-hop ducked instinctively.</p> - -<p>“Bress Gawd!” he gasped. “Y’ don’ mean it!”</p> - -<p>A choked sob burst from the throat of the chalky-faced man.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been robbed!” he repeated in a certain strange calm. Then he -sobbed again, his whole body writhing with the sound. “My God! Eighty -thousand dollars!”</p> - -<p>The bell-hop jumped a foot in the air at mention of that sum and -departed swiftly. The result of his flight was seen a moment later in -a pale and worried desk-clerk who came hurriedly into the room. Craig -was moving dumbly about, looking hopelessly here, there—everywhere.</p> - -<p>“You—you’ve been robbed, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Eighty thousand dollars!” Craig seemed stunned by the calamity. “I’m -ruined! Ruined! Eighty thousand dollars!”</p> - -<p>He sat down suddenly in a chair and stared before him with lack-lustre -eyes. The desk-clerk, alarmed as he was for the reputation of the -house, could not but feel sympathy for the man who had changed so -absolutely in so few minutes. His very lips were gray. His eyes seemed -to have retreated deep into his skull. His voice was a pitiable parody -of a living man’s voice. It was dead, harsh, lifeless.</p> - -<p>“Carrying bonds from New Orleans to New York,” he said dully. “Nobody -knew I had ’em. Can’t sleep on trains, and stopped over here to have a -night’s rest. I went out for dinner.... The bonds are gone.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll send for the police,” the desk-clerk assured him. “We’ve a -splendid detective force here. If anybody could find them, Jamison -can.”</p> - -<p>Craig’s fingers unclenched and he automatically began to look through -the articles in his suit-case again, in the utterly forlorn hope that -he might yet be mistaken, and might yet find the bonds.</p> - -<p>“Eighty thousand dollars!” he said apathetically. “I’m ruined! They’ll -suspect me, even me, of stealing them. And nobody knew I had them!” He -groaned. “Nobody knew I had them!”</p> - -<p>The clerk slipped from the room and telephoned frantically, while he -gave orders that assured the continued presence of every one of the -hotel employees and a careful note of every guest who left the place. -He would be able to give the police a list of every man who slipped -out, and would be able to produce all the hotel help. It was quick and -efficient work. But once that was done, the desk-clerk allowed himself -to think sympathetically of the man in the room above. He had seen -Craig stroll into the elevator, pleasantly flushed by his dinner and -walk. And now that chalk-white man with sunken eyes, croaking of ruin -and disgrace....</p> - -<p>The desk-clerk shook his head in genuine regret.</p> - -<h2>II </h2> - -<p>A rather shabby young man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth -strolled into the room without the formality of knocking. He nodded -ungraciously at Craig.</p> - -<p>“I’m Jamison,” he said gloomily. “Police Headquarters. They sent me -down to find out about this robbery. What’s up?”</p> - -<p>Craig, no more than the wreck of the debonair man of a half hour -before, told his story, with his eyes glowing strangely from sunken -sockets. Jamison listened from a comfortable chair, gazing at the -ceiling.</p> - -<p>“Y’ went out?” he queried, when Craig had finished. “Why didn’t you -leave the bonds in the hotel safe?”</p> - -<p>“I should have,” groaned Craig wretchedly. “But no one knew I had them -with me. Only the president of my firm and myself knew I had them. We -thought that if I just went on up to New York quite casually, as if on -an ordinary business trip, there’d be no suspicion of my having -anything valuable with me. God! If I’d only known!”</p> - -<p>“How long were you gone?” asked Jamison, fishing in his baggy pockets -for tobacco and paper to roll another cigarette.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Craig despairingly. “I finished my dinner, wrote -a note, and went out to the street. I asked the way to the nearest -mail box and dropped my letter in. Then I came back, came up to my -room, and the bonds were gone! I’m ruined! I’ll be suspected of -stealing them myself!”</p> - -<p>Jamison yawned and rolled a cigarette with one hand, watching his own -fingers with the absorbed attention of one who has but recently -acquired the feat.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said in a moment, after licking the paper. “I guess we’ve -got a job ahead of us. What train did you come in on?”</p> - -<p>“I got in about four-thirty.”</p> - -<p>“That’s number twenty-seven,” commented Jamison. “You came to the -hotel right away?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I registered, washed up, had my dinner, and——”</p> - -<p>“Bonds negotiable?” queried Jamison uninterestedly. “What issue and -numbers?”</p> - -<p>Craig told him.</p> - -<p>“N.O. and W. 4½s,” Jamison yawned again. “Twenty-nine four -eighty-seven to twenty-nine five twenty-two. All right.”</p> - -<p>Craig rose as Jamison stood up negligently. Craig looked like a wreck. -His face was a sickly white and his eyes burned from cavernous depths. -His lips were trembling a little.</p> - -<p>“They’re going to suspect me!” he said desperately. “Only one man -beside myself knew I had those bonds. They’re gone—stolen. Man, you’ve -got to clear me! Search me, search the room! Put me under arrest. Do -something!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll put you under surveillance,” said Jamison, “if you like.” He -yawned. “Just to prove to your firm you didn’t hide out on ’em. I’ll -send a man up in a little while.”</p> - -<p>“I can give an account of every movement since I’ve been in the city,” -said Craig suddenly. “Look here. I keep an account of all my -expenditures. You can check me up. Here’s my dinner. Here’s the tip, -and a postage-stamp on the letter to my firm. Here’s a magazine I -bought.... You can check up the time on every one of them. You can -trace my movements that way.”</p> - -<p>Jamison glanced uninterestedly at the open page held in Craig’s -shaking hand.</p> - -<p>“Don’t get so excited,” he said grouchily. “Don’t y’ know that if you -had swiped the stuff you’d have faked a book like that?”</p> - -<p>He eyed the page for a moment and sat down again, as if a new chain of -questioning had occurred to him.</p> - -<p>“Say, do you often come through here?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“Yes, on an average of once a month.”</p> - -<p>“Stop at this hotel?”</p> - -<p>“Yes....” Craig began to look hopeful. “Do you suppose some one of the -help—”</p> - -<p>“How big a package were the bonds?”</p> - -<p>“There were eighty of them. They’d make quite a wad of paper.”</p> - -<p>“Make a man’s pocket bulge out?”</p> - -<p>“Surely.”</p> - -<p>“The hotel-clerk kept all the employees waiting,” observed Jamison. -“I’ll take a look. Was your place much messed up when you got back?”</p> - -<p>“Practically like this. I left the bonds in my suit-case. When I -opened the door I saw the place was torn upside down, everything -thrown all about.”</p> - -<p>“You’d left your suit-case open?” queried Jamison. “They’d look in -there first....”</p> - -<p>“The bonds were under a shirt—in the folds of a shirt. At first glance -they wouldn’t seem to be there.”</p> - -<p>Jamison puffed thoughtfully for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Ever use your firm’s stationery here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Why?”</p> - -<p>“Just thinking,” said Jamison. “You see, if you dropped a letter-head -in a waste-basket, whoever cleaned up the room might connect you -up.... Say, your firm is a bank. You come through every so often. -Suppose you leave a letter-head. Banks sometimes send currency from -one place to another by messenger. A chambermaid or bell-hop might -notice....”</p> - -<p>Craig’s face brightened. Jamison wore an air of innocent pride.</p> - -<p>“You have to think of those things,” he said modestly. “I’ll tell you. -You go down and get the desk-clerk and a cop. Tell the desk-clerk to -have the darkies that clean up this floor come in, one by one. Come -back with the clerk and the cop.”</p> - -<p>Craig obediently started for the door, hesitated, glanced back, and -then went out. Jamison allowed himself the luxury of a grunt when the -door closed, and the expression of innocent pride vanished utterly -from his features, leaving them somewhat bored and entirely disgusted.</p> - -<p>“Sloppy work,” he commented gloomily, to himself. “I wonder where he -keeps his shaving-soap. That’s the answer, ten to one.”</p> - -<p>He began to rummage in Craig’s suit-case.</p> - -<h2>III </h2> - -<p>When Craig pushed open the door again with the room-clerk and the -policeman, Jamison was standing by the bureau, where there was a -light. He seemed to be examining something in his hand. Craig looked -vastly more hopeful, though his face was still a deadly white and his -eyes were still sunken deeply into his head.</p> - -<p>“This officer,” he announced, “saw me when I went out to mail that -letter. Tell him about it, Officer.”</p> - -<p>“I saw him mail a letter, sorr,” said the policeman. “I was standin’ -by the mail-box whin he come up. He axed me for a light, sorr, and -lighted his cigar with it. It had gone out. Thin he put his letter in -the box. ’Twas a small letter, sorr, in one av th’ hotel envelopes.”</p> - -<p>Jamison nodded uninterestedly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right,” he said wearily. “Nobody thought he mailed ’em away -and then called for the police to find ’em. Say,” he turned to the -hotel-clerk, “when did you open up this part of the hotel?”</p> - -<p>“About six months ago.”</p> - -<p>“New help?” queried Jamison. He sank into a chair and yawned.</p> - -<p>“Partly,” said the clerk. “The chambermaid’s been here a long time. -The cleaner for this floor is Sam Whitehouse. You know him, I think. -He’s a pretty good negro. Been fined a couple of times for shooting -craps, but that’s all.”</p> - -<p>Jamison sat up.</p> - -<p>“Sam Whitehouse!” he said with more energy than he had displayed -before. “Why didn’t you say so before? Look here.”</p> - -<p>He took an envelope from his pocket and scribbled a few words on the -back, then handed it to the officer.</p> - -<p>“You can attend to it better than anyone else,” he commented. “See to -it, won’t you? I’ll wait here.”</p> - -<p>He lay back in his chair and frowned at the clerk.</p> - -<p>“I wish you hotel people wouldn’t hire known criminals,” he -complained. “They’re always making trouble. If there’s a smart darky -in the city, it’s that same Sam. He’d steal the brass plate off a -coffin—and get away with it. I guess we’ll have him now, though....”</p> - -<p>He rolled a cigarette and puffed gloomily on it until the policeman -returned.</p> - -<p>“Got him, sorr. An’ he had the bonds. A thick wad av thim, sorr.”</p> - -<p>Craig sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>“What!”</p> - -<p>“He’s got the bonds,” said Jamison wearily. “You see, I guessed right -when I said you’d probably left a letter-head or something. He just -waited for you to come back to town and went through your room.”</p> - -<p>Craig’s face was a puzzle for an instant, and then he sank back into -his seat and mopped his forehead, patting it with his handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“Thank God!” he gasped.</p> - -<p>“Well, we’re through,” said Jamison. “Not much of a case, this. You -can get your bonds in the morning at the police station.”</p> - -<p>He strolled out the door with the policeman and room-clerk. Craig -watched the door close behind them and sprang to his feet in a -noiseless bound.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” he muttered, desperately. “How—how—”</p> - -<p>In a catlike leap he sprang to the cheap bureau in the room. With a -jerk he pulled out an empty drawer. He stared at it for an instant, -and then brought it down with a crash upon his knee, splintering the -bottom utterly. The real bottom of the drawer came out in fragments, -and a layer of veneer that fitted neatly over it was twisted and -wrecked as well. And tumbling out upon the floor were the eighty -neatly engraved bonds, fallen from their hiding place in the neatly -contrived false bottom, just where Craig had placed them two hours -before. And yet—</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” said Jamison’s voice wearily. “It was a sloppy job.”</p> - -<p>There was an infinitely bright flash and the room was full of smoke.</p> - -<h2>IV </h2> - -<p>“You’re mugged, now,” observed Jamison. “I guess a flash-light picture -will go well in court....”</p> - -<p>“His ears were pink,” explained Jamison, his tone indicating the -ultimate of boredom. “His ears were nice and pink. That gave him -away.”</p> - -<p>Craig was huddled in a chair in the police-station. The big policeman -stood guard beside him and the desk-sergeant listened sympathetically -to Jamison’s tale of woe.</p> - -<p>“My Gawd,” said Jamison disgustedly. “I haven’t seen a really neat job -in so long you’d think everybody with brains had turned honest. Look -at him, now. He passed through here once a month for six months or so, -carrying stuff from New Orleans to New York and back. He was a regular -at the hotel, and the clerk always gave him the same room, and he saw -it had one o’ these cheap made-by-the-million bureaus in it. And he -set to work from that!”</p> - -<p>He flung away his perpetual cigarette and grunted.</p> - -<p>“He took some measurements of the inside, an’ got a piece of veneer to -fit the bottom of one of the drawers. Then, today, he climbed off the -train, went to the hotel, took his bonds and laid ’em, neat, in the -drawer, trimmed up his veneer to fit exactly, and glued it down on top -of ’em. To look at it, it was a perfectly empty drawer, and nobody -looks for secret compartments in hotel furniture, particularly of the -made-by-the-million kind. He wandered downstairs, ate his dinner while -the glue dried, smoked a cigar, and went back up to his room and -yelled bloody murder. He thought he’d get away with the story that his -room had been robbed while he was out!”</p> - -<p>The desk-sergeant shook his head sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“Tst! Tst!...” he said commiseratingly.</p> - -<p>“He had a good make-up on” commented Jamison morosely. “He looked like -the wrath o’ Gawd, and he played his part pretty well, but he overdid -it, of course. Showed me a notebook to check up his movements by—and -he’d made an entry in it while there was a bit of glue on his finger. -The smudge told a lot, since I’d already made up my mind he was tryin’ -to steal from himself. Say”—he addressed the prisoner—“were you -thinkin’ maybe your firm would prosecute you for the theft and be -unable to get a conviction for lack of evidence?”</p> - -<p>The prisoner seemed to shrink a little farther into himself, but did -not reply.</p> - -<p>“That was it,” said Jamison gloomily. “Once he’d been tried, you know, -they couldn’t have done a thing no matter how much proof they got that -he had recovered and was selling the bonds later.”</p> - -<p>“He gave himself away, you say?” the desk-sergeant asked.</p> - -<p>“Dead away,” admitted Jamison depressedly. “I knew he’d done it, the -minute I first saw him, and if that wasn’t enough, I sent him out to -get the room-clerk and he stopped in the doorway to take a last look -straight where he’d put the bonds. And the first place he looked when -he came back was the same spot. It was a shame to pinch him, he was so -innocent.”</p> - -<p>“But can you jug him?” queried the desk-sergeant.</p> - -<p>“Jug him? I could hang him,” asserted Jamison in the profoundest -disgust. “I got Murphy to frame a story that he’d found the bonds on a -bell-hop, and when Murphy—”</p> - -<p>“Me name’s O’Ryan, sorr,” interrupted the policeman.</p> - -<p>“When O’Ryan sprang the plant and we went out, Craig went straight to -look at the bonds and make sure they were safe. All I had to do was -take Murph—O’Ryan by the hand and wait two minutes and then swing in -the door and pull a flash-pistol. I had Craig neatly mugged with the -bonds in his hands. Could I jug him, I ask you?”</p> - -<p>“You could,” agreed the desk-sergeant. “But you keep saying all along -that you knew he’d hidden out the bonds. How’d you know that?”</p> - -<p>“His ears were pink,” said Jamison wearily. “If you saw a man who’d -just been robbed of a fortune, you’d expect him to look sort of pale, -wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I would that.”</p> - -<p>“This man was made up pretty good. His eyes looked sunk way back in -his head, and he was pale to just the right extent. He put over the -voice stuff pretty well, too. He’d made himself up with number one -dead white, that he carried in his shaving-soap tube, but he’d left -his ears pink, a nice, healthy pink. And I had only to take one look -to know what was up.”</p> - -<p>“’Twas careless,” said the desk-sergeant.</p> - -<p>“Careless? It was criminal!” Jamison seemed to be mourning over the -decay of crime. “I haven’t had a real good case in a coon’s age. -Crooks haven’t got brains any more.”</p> - -<p>And he shook his head in the most abysmal gloom.</p> - -<div class='tn'> -Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the -April, 1922 issue of <em>The Black Mask</em> magazine. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PINK EARS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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