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diff --git a/old/68930-0.txt b/old/68930-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 340afd0..0000000 --- a/old/68930-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1256 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beyond the wall, by Henry Leverage - -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: Beyond the wall - -Author: Henry Leverage - -Release Date: September 6, 2022 [eBook #68930] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND THE WALL *** - - - - -Beyond the Wall - -by Henry Leverage - - - The first of a remarkable series of underworld stories by the - author of “Thirst” and “The Harvest of the Deep.” Few other - writers have Mr. Leverage’s keen sense of drama and ability to - describe swift action clearly. - - -Chester Fay, a slender, keen-eyed, gray-haired young man,--clad in -prison shoddy, serving life and fifteen years at Rockglen,--glanced -through the rain and over the wall to where a green-cloaked hill -loomed. “Charley,” he whispered, “we might as well try it this -afternoon. Are you game?” Charley O’Mara, sixty-five years old, bent, -broken, and bitter at the law, coughed a warning. He raised his pick -and started digging around a flower-bed. - -A guard in a heavy raincoat, carrying a dripping rifle, came toward -the two prisoners. He stopped a few feet away from Fay. - -“Quit that talkin’!” he snarled. “I’ll chalk you in if I see any more -of it!” - -Fay did not answer the guard. He spaded the earth, dug deep, tossed -the shovelfuls to one side and waited until the guard had strolled -within the shelter of a low shed. - -“Charley!” he continued without moving his lips. “Listen, old pal. -See that motortruck near the shed?” - -“I see it, Chester.” - -“See where the screw is standing?” - -“He’s watching us.” - -“And I’m watching him, Charley. We can beat this stir in an hour. Do -you want to try it?” - -“How you going to do it?” - -“Will you follow me?” - -“Yes, pal.” - -“Wait till it gets a little darker. Then we’ll take the chance.” - -The prison guard stood with his rifle lowered to the moist earth -beneath the shed. His eyes ranged from the two convicts to the wall -upon which were other guards sheltered in tiny guardhouses. He yawned -and drowsed, standing. - -Fay worked in a slow circle. He had seen the auto-truck come into the -prison yard at noon. It was part of the road-gang’s outfit. There was -no road-work that day, on account of the rain. The inmate driver had -gone into the cellhouse. - -Old Charley O’Mara let his pick dig into the earth with feeble -strokes. He paused at times. There was that to Fay’s actions which -presaged much. The gray-haired young man was gradually closing in on -the drowsing guard. He was like a lean panther getting ready for a -spring. - - * * * * * - -The attack came with lightninglike suddenness. Fay dropped his -shovel, crossed the earth, struck the guard a short-arm uppercut and -bore him down to earth, where he smothered his cries with a flap of -the raincoat. - -Charley O’Mara came limping toward the shed. - -“Get a rope!” snapped Fay. “I don’t want to croak him.” - -“Croakin’s too good for the likes of him, Chester.” - -“Get a rope. We’ve got about fifteen minutes to work in. We ought to -be beyond the wall by then.” - -Fay worked quickly. He took the rope the old convict found, and -trussed the guard, after taking off the raincoat. He made sure that -the man would make no outcry. He fastened a stick in his mouth and -tied it behind his head. He rose and glanced through the down-pouring -rain. - -“I knocked him out,” he said. “Now, Charley, put on that raincoat, -take the cap and rifle and walk slowly toward the auto-truck. Get in -the front. Stand up like a guard.” - -“But they might know me!” - -“They wont know you. It’s raining. The screws on the wall will think -you are taking the truck out, by order of the warden. I’ll drive. An -inmate always drives.” - -The guard who sat huddled in the little house which loomed over the -great gate at Rockglen rose, opened a small window and glanced out as -he heard the motortruck mounting the grade from the prison yard. He -saw what he thought was the figure of a guard standing by a convict. -The convict crouched with partly hidden face over the steering-wheel. - -“All right!” shouted Charley O’Mara, motioning with his rifle toward -the closed gate. - -The guard squinted for a second time. He caught, through the rain, -the gleam of brass on the cap Charley wore. He saw the rifle. He -reached and pulled at a lever. The gate slowly opened, first to a -crack, then wide. Fay pressed forward the clutch pedal, shifted from -neutral to first speed, stepped on the accelerator and let the clutch -pedal up gently. - -The truck mounted the top of the grade, churned through the gate, -turned in front of the warden’s house and took the incline which led -over the hill from Rockglen. - - * * * * * - -All might have gone well for the convicts had it not been for the -rain. Water had formed in deep pools along the road. Into these pools -Fay guided the clumsy truck. He heard the engine miss an explosion. A -sputter followed. The truck slowed. An explosion sounded in the -muffler. The insulation wires grounded and short-circuited. The truck -stopped. - -Fay sprang from the driver’s seat and opened the hood. He attempted -to find the trouble. A dangling wire, touching the engine’s frame, -was sodden with water. - -“No go!” he said to Charley. “Come on! We’ll leave the truck and take -to the woods. That means a chase as soon as the big whistle blows.” - -The two convicts were crossing an open field when they heard the -first menacing blasts from the prison siren. They ran for shelter. A -dog barked. A farmhand came through the underbrush. He stood -watching. - -“Keep your nerve!” said Fay. “You’ve got the rifle. Night is coming -on. Follow me.” - -The trail led away from Rockglen. Fay sensed the general direction. -He attempted to gain a railroad junction where a freight could be -taken for Chicago. He was headed off by a motorcar load of prison -guards. He saw the danger in time. - -“To the right,” he whispered to O’Mara. “Follow me. Don’t cave, pal.” - -“I’m all in,” sobbed the old convict. - -Fay braced his arm beneath Charlie’s elbow. He took the rifle. They -crossed a swollen brook, broke through the hedge of a vast estate and -came suddenly upon a trio of watchmen who had been alarmed by the -blowing of the prison’s siren. - -The fight that followed was entirely onesided. Fay pumped lead in the -general direction of the watchmen. He was answered by a salvo. -Crimson cones splashed the night. Bullets whined. A shout sounded far -away. Other watchmen and constables were surrounding the estate. - -Old Charley O’Mara, crouching in the shelter of a hawthorn clump, -coughed, rose, spun and fell face downward. A great spot of scarlet -ran over the raincoat. His aged face twisted in agony. Fay knelt by -his side. - -“I’m croaked, pal,” said the convict. “They winged me through the -lungs. Good-by, pal.” - -“Anything I can do, Charley?” - -“Do you think you’ll get away?” - -“I know I will.” - -“To Chi?” - -“Yes!” - -“Will you go see my little girl?” - -“Where is she?” - -“At the Dropper’s, on Harrison Street. She’s in bad, Chester. Take -her away from them low-brows.” - -“How old is she?” - -“Sixteen.” - -“What is her name?” - -“Emily--little Emily.” - -“I’ll take care of her, Charley. I promise you that!” - - * * * * * - -Fay let the convict’s head drop to the ground. He heard the -death-rattle. He kicked aside the empty and useless rifle. - -The way of escape was not an easy one. Forms moved in the mist. He -darted for a row of bushes. He crawled beneath them. He gained the -high fence around the estate, where, freed of the necessity of -setting his pace to that of the old convict, he broke through the -far-flung cordon of guards and watchmen and gained a woods which -extended north and west for over a score of miles. - -He discovered, toward morning, a small house in course of erection. -Its scaffolding stood gaunt against the velvet of the sky. A -carpenter’s chest rested on the back porch. - -Fay pried this open with a hatchet, removed a suit of overalls and a -saw, and dropped the lid. He emerged from the woods, looking for all -the world like a carpenter going to work. - -To the man who had wolfed the world--to the third cracksman then -living--the remainder of his get-away to Chicago was a journey wherein -each detail fitted in with the others. - -He arrived--after riding in gondola-cars, hugging the tops of Pullmans -and helping stoke an Atlantic type locomotive--at the first fringe of -the city of many millions. - -With sharp eyes before him, and dodging police-haunted streets, he -mingled with the workers--seemingly a carpenter. - -No one of all the throng seemed to notice him. He walked slowly at -times. He thought of old Charley O’Mara, and of the dying convict’s -request. - -A speck in the yeast, a chip on the foam, he quickened his steps and -entered a small pawnshop where money could be borrowed for -enterprises of a shady nature. - - * * * * * - -Mother Madlebaum peered over the counter at the gray-haired young man -who held out an empty palm and asked for a loan on a mythical watch. -She removed her spectacles, polished them with her black alpaca -apron, and glanced shrewdly toward the door. - -“What a start you gave me, Chester. And me thinking all along you -were lagged.” - -“Five C’s on the block,” laughed Fay pleasantly. “Remember the -blue-white gems I brought you last time? Remember the swag, loot and -plunder from the Hanover job? You made big on them.” - -“I always do with your stuff, Chester.” - -“Can you lend me five hundred? I’ve just beaten stir.” - -The old fence opened her safe and brought forth a money-drawer. Fay -took the bills she handed to him, without counting them. He touched -his hat and started toward the door. - -“Wait, Chester.” - -“What is it?” - -“Want to plant upstairs till the blow is over?” - -“No. I promised old Charley O’Mara I’d see his girl for him. Poor -Charley is dead.” - -“He wasn’t in your class, Chester. Nobody is.” - -“Where’s the Dropper’s scatter?” - -“Five doors from the corner, on Harrison Street. Is the girl there?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then may God help her. You can’t!” - -Fay passed from the fence and lost himself in the clothing-department -of a dry-goods store. He entered the place a carpenter--down in the -heels and somewhat grimy from his train-ride. He emerged with a -bamboo cane hooked over the sleeve of a shepherd-plaid suit. His hat -was a flat-brimmed Panama, his shoes correct. - -A bath, shave, shampoo and haircut completed his metamorphosis. He -left a barber-shop--the proper figure of a young man. He walked -briskly, seeing everything. - - * * * * * - -There were detectives in that city--discerning ones. He avoided the -main streets and crossings. Wolf-keen and alert for the police, he -turned toward the dive where little Emily O’Mara lived. He distrusted -the place and cursed himself for the venture. - -The Dropper’s reputation among the powers that preyed was--unsavory. -There had been rumors in the old days that he was a pigeon. The den -and joint he managed sheltered cheap dips, pennyweighters and -store-histers who bragged of their miserable exploits. - -Fay entered the hallway that led up to the Dropper’s, like a duke -paying a visit to a tenement. - -A gas-light flared the second landing. An ash-can, half filled with -empty bottles, marked the third. Fay paused by this can, studied a -fist-banged door, then knocked with light knuckles. - -As he waited for a chain to be unhooked and a slide to open, he -sniffed the air of the hallway. Somewhere, some one was smoking -opium. - -A brutish, shelving-browed, scar-crossed face appeared at the -opening. Steely eyes drilled toward the cracksman. - -“What d’ye want here?” - -“Gee sip en quessen, hop en yen?” - -“Who to hell are yuh?” - -“A friend,” said Fay. “A man to see Charley O’Mara’s daughter.” - -Fay carried no revolver. He scorned such things. The police rated him -too clever to commit murder. Only amateurs and coke-fiends did things -like that. - -He wished, however, that he could thrust the blued-steel muzzle of a -gat through the panel and order the Dropper to unlatch the door. The -thug was so long in making up his none-too-alert mind. - -It swung finally. Fay stepped into the room. He narrowed his eyes and -mentally photographed a mean den, made translucent by the -greenish-hued smoke that swirled over a peanut-oil lamp and floated -before the drawn faces of many poppy-dreamers who were peering from -bunks. - -The Dropper stood waiting. His elbows were slightly bent. His huge, -broken-boned hands came slowly in front. He measured Fay from the tip -of the shoes to the prematurely gray hair that showed beneath the -cracksman’s straw hat. - -“Well, when did you get out of stir?” he snarled with sudden -recognition. “I thought they threw the key away on yuh.” - -“Easy, Dropper! Who are all these people?” - -“Aw, they’re all right! There’s Canada Mac and Glycerine Jimmy an’ -three broads over there. Then there’s Mike the Bike and Micky Gleason -with us to-night. Know them?” - -Fay unhooked his cane from his arm. He swung it back and forth as he -studied the faces in the bunks. His stare dropped to the peanut-oil -lamp and the lay-out tray around which reclined two smokers. He saw a -piglike dog crouching by a screen. Behind this was the entrance to -another room. - -“Suppose we go in there,” he said. “There’s something I want to speak -to you about, Dropper.” - -“Spit it out, here!” - -“No!” Fay’s voice took on a metallic incisiveness. He flashed a -warning at the Dropper. The big man shifted his eyes uneasily, and -followed Fay around the screen and into a room where two -chintz-covered windows looked out into Harrison Street. There were a -poker-table, a couch and many chairs in the room. The floor was -covered with a cheap matting. - -“Listen,” said Fay, still swinging his cane: “I came here to see -Charley O’Mara’s daughter. I want to see her quick! I can’t stay -around here. It’s no place--” - -“Aw, cut that kid-glove stuff. What d’ye think we are--stools?” - -“I want to see Charley’s daughter--Emily!” - -“You can’t!” - -“What have you done with her?” - -“I aint done nothin’. She lives right here.” - -Fay hung his cane on a chair, removed his hat, turned, backed against -the poker-table and fastened upon the Dropper a glance of white fire. - -“Tell that girl to come to me.” - -“Well, who the hell are you orderin’ around?” - -“Go! Get--that--girl!” - -The Dropper was in his own castle. The bunks in the den were filled -with the reclining forms of a number of men who would commit murder -at his bidding. He had, safely planted, the only hundred toys of -choice Victoria hop in all of Chicago. One could buy most anything, -from virtue to a man’s soul, with opium at the current prices. - -He considered the matter of Fay with a slow brain. Back in the heart -of him there lurked a fear for a five-figure man. They did big -things. They were supercrooks. Their weight might be felt through -political influence. - -“I’m hep!” he said sullenly. “You want to cop the skirt from me. You -want to tell her about diamonds and rubies and strings of pearls--of -swag and kale and the easy life swillin’ wine.” - -“I don’t want to do anything of the kind. I’ve got a message for her -from her old man. He’s not well,” Fay added cautiously, remembering -that under the law the Dropper might be considered Emily’s guardian. - -“So he aint goin’ to get sprung? I heard he had a swell mouthpiece -who was workin’ with the pollies.” - -“The appeal was denied last week. The governor turned it down--cold. -Charley may have to serve his full term.” - -“Oh, well, if that’s the straight of it-- I’ll get the moll an’ -let you chin with her a bit. Remember, no fancy stuff.” - -Fay stared at the dive-keeper disgustedly. The Dropper weighed over -two hundred and fifty pounds. He moved his gross form across the -matting, paused at the screen where the piglike dog lay, and lumbered -out of sight. His voice rasped in a shout: “Emily!” - - * * * * * - -Her entrance came a minute after Fay had seated himself at the -poker-table. His hand rested on his hat. He heard the Dropper’s -nagging oaths. - -Emily entered, propelled by a strong arm. - -Fay rose. He flashed an assuring glance. He reached and offered her a -chair. - -The picture she left with him, as he turned for the chair, was one he -could never forget. - -Golden-glossed hair, fine-spun as flax, an oval face, big -sherry-colored eyes, long lashes, a round breast and straight -figure--was his summing up of little Emily O’Mara. - -The Dropper lunged for the girl. He lifted her chin. He leered as she -cringed from him. - -“This guy wants to see you, kid!” - -Fay pressed the sides of his trousers with the sensitive tips of his -fingers. He waited, with his teeth grinding. He wanted to leap the -distance, reach, clutch and throttle the purple neck of the brute. - -The Dropper swung a terrible jaw and eyed Fay. - -“Go to it!” he rumbled. “Get done with the kid, damn quick. Tell her -she’ll never see her old man again. That’s wot I’ve been tellin’ -her--all the time.” - -Fay waited until the Dropper disappeared. He moved the chair he had -offered to the girl, so that she could see it. - -“Wont you sit down, Emily? I left your dad last night. He wasn’t -well.” - -A flash of interest and gratitude crossed her features. She clutched -her skirt, stared at the door, bent one knee and sank into the chair -timidly. - -Fay leaned and whispered: - -“Your father sent me to you. He wants you to leave this bunch. He’s -afraid you are not being well treated. He thinks you ought to go to -some good home,” he added as he realized the girl’s underworld -upbringing. - -“Is Father coming back to me?” - -“No, never.” - -“Why not?” - -The naivete of the question struck Fay as an indictment against -society. - -“Because the laws are unjust!” he declared. “They keep a man in -prison after he is reformed. They don’t keep a man in a hospital -after he is cured.” - -“Did you escape from Rockglen?” - -“Would it make any difference to you if I had broken out of prison?” - -“No, it wouldn’t make any difference to me--but I don’t know what you -mean.” - -“I mean I want you to go away with me. I want to get you out of this -den of petty-larceny addicts and low-brows. That’s what your father -wanted, Emily.” - -“But I don’t even know your name. Why should I run away with you?” - -“Because the Dropper is a brute. Because he will beat you--if he -hasn’t already. Because the life here leads to the gutter--and mighty -fast you’ll drift down to it, little Emily.” - - * * * * * - -The girl arranged a black velvet bandeau on her hair. Fay noticed -that the rings on her fingers were brassy and childish. They grated -on a man who had never handled any but first-water jewels. - -He leaned forward and suggested: - -“Come with me--say, to-morrow night. We’ll go East together. I know a -motherly woman who has an old mansion on the Hudson.” - -Little Emily fluttered her lashes in an anxious glance at the open -door, beyond which was the sound of dreamy voices. - -“I’m afraid I can’t.” - -“Why?” - -“He wont let me.” - -“What is he to you?” - -“Nothing, but I’m afraid of him. He’s so strong.” - -“He’s a big mush, little Emily--a woman-beater, a peddler of opium--a -Fink, if you know what that means.” - -The girl pulled her dress down to the tops of her broken shoes. She -twisted, glanced up, smiled faintly, and blanched as the Dropper -thrust his head into the room. - -“What are you tryin’ to pull off?” he asked. - -Fay stared over the girl’s cringing shoulder. His steel-blue eyes -locked with the brute’s. They burned and blazed into a sodden brain. -The Dropper leered, said, “Oh, all right, cul,” and went back to the -smokers around the lay-out tray. - -“Quick, Emily! Make up your mind. Can I come for you to-morrow night? -I owe it to your old man. We’ll go East, and this woman I know will -take care of you. I hate the coppers, and I’m out to collect from the -world. They sent me away to Rockglen--dead, bang wrong! They gave me -life and fifteen years. I didn’t serve fifteen weeks!” - -Fay ceased pleading. He watched the girl. There was a mark behind her -left ear which could only have come from a blow. She fingered a black -velvet bandeau. She clenched her hands. She started to rise. Suddenly -she dropped to the chair. - -“I can’t go--even if Dad wants me to. I can’t leave the Dropper. I am -afraid he’ll kill me if I go away with you.” - -“He’s got you cowed!” - -“I can’t help it.” - -“And you slave for him--work for him--touch his hand when he calls for -you?” - -“I do. You don’t understand my position.” - -“It’s an outrage. Poor Charley O’Mara’s daughter held in the clutches -of that beast!” - -“He is going to kill me some day. I saw him kill a man once. He hit -him with his fist. They carried the man to the river.” - -“Suppose I come here to-morrow night with a gat, stick up the joint, -make the Dropper whine like a cur. What would you do?” - -“He wouldn’t whine. He’d kill you--the way he killed that man who -didn’t pay him for a card of hop.” - -Fay caught the underworld note. - -“Do you smoke?” His voice was suspicious. - -“No, I don’t smoke opium. I watch other people do that.” - -“You’re too sensible. Does the Dropper smoke?” - -“He don’t smoke, either. He sells the stuff.” - - * * * * * - -The girl’s naïveté brought a smile to Fay’s lips. - -“You’re going East,” he said. “I’ll make the money for your -education. I’ve got two big jobs located. One is in Maiden Lane.” - -“Diamonds?” - -“Yes, gems. What do you say, little Emily?” - -“I--I am afraid.” - -“But think what a beautiful world this is. There is London and Paris -and Rome.” - -“London and Paris and Rome mean nothing to me. I wouldn’t know how to -behave in those places. All I’ve known is Harrison Street, and the -back rooms of saloons, and getting beat up.” - -“But your dad was a high-roller.” - -“He wasn’t always. Sometimes he was broke. Sometimes we didn’t know -where we were going to get things to eat.” - -Fay’s voice grew tender. - -“Emily,” he said, “that’s all a bad dream. Yesterday afternoon I made -a get-away. A man who was dying--a mark for the prison screws--told me -to go and save his daughter. I don’t want you to think I forgot that -request. I could never forget it. Charley was a pal o’ mine. I came -right to you. I see the lay-out. You’re cowed, beaten, crushed, by -the Dropper. I’ll croak him when you ask me to.” - -“You can’t! I want you to go away. Please don’t suggest anything like -that. I like you, but I can never run away with you. I’m afraid.” - -“Good God, do you want me to leave you in this joint?” - -“It’s the only life I’ve ever known.” - -“Where do you sleep?” - -“On a cot upstairs.” - -“And you ought to have a palace. Did you ever look at yourself in the -glass?” - -“Sometimes, after he beats me.” - -Fay started toward the door. He heard a chair upset. Little Emily -dragged on his arm. - -“Don’t go to him! He’ll kill you.” - -“Then you come with me.” - -“I’m afraid to.” - -The girl spoke the truth. Her color was ashen. - -Fay went to the table, lifted her chair, turned it and motioned for -her to sit down. She hesitated between the table and door. - -“Please,” said Fay. - -He might have been addressing a princess. Her color returned in -rippling waves. She tried to smile. Her lips trembled--she took one -step in his direction, swayed, and pressed her fists to her breast. - -The Dropper’s form completely filled the doorway. - -“Come here!” he snarled. - -“Hold on!” snapped Fay. - -“Come ’ere, yuh!” - -The girl between the two men, made her choice, or rather, had it made -for her. - -Shrinkingly demure, and altogether tearful, she pressed by the -Dropper and glided across the den where the poppy-smokers lay. - -“Go to bed!” - -Fay saw the brute’s chin move in a slow circle over his shelving -shoulder. He swung back his jaw. - -“You’re next,” he said. “Better beat it, bo. I’ll tame yuh like I’ve -tamed her.” - -“Tamed is good.” Fay picked up his hat. He hooked the cane over his -left sleeve. “Rather pleasant evening, Dropper.... I see you -understand women.” - -“I guess I do. Yuh want to let ’em know you’re the biggest guy alive. -I’m that guy. Nobody ever took a broad away from me.” - -“But she’s only a kid, Dropper.” - -“Another year--” - -“Yes, you’re right. Well, so long. There’ll be another night, too. -I’m coming back.” - -“I’ll be ready for yuh!” - - * * * * * - -Fay had no set plan as he left the scatter of Mike Cregan--alias the -Dropper. He wanted to thrash out the matter of Emily O’Mara in his -mind. Her behavior, and the fear she held of her unsavory guardian, -puzzled the cracksman. - -He had accomplished much in a brief time. There were not many men -living who could have broken out of Rockglen on one afternoon and -strolled down Michigan Avenue the next. It was an exploit in keeping -with his reputation. - -Midnight found him working over the problem of the girl. He recalled -old Charley’s last instructions: - -“Get her away from the low-brows.” - -A promise, Fay had never intentionally broken. There was the -girl--naive, doll-like, docile. There was the Dropper--demanding, -brutish, a fink. - -Fay slept that night at a stag hotel. - -He woke early, bathed beneath a shower, dressed and went down to -breakfast. - -On Harrison Street he gulped the air. He avoided being seen by the -detectives of the city. Once he took a cab for a distance of five -squares. He dismissed the driver at the side entrance of a cheap -hotel--sauntered through the lobby and emerged with a sharp glance to -left and right. - -The game gripped him as he dodged into the tenement and started -climbing the gas-flared stairways to the hop-joint. He knew, in the -soul of him, that Chicago was a danger-spot. - -He knocked on the door and was admitted by the Dropper--who seemed -alone. - -“Back again,” said Fay. “I said I’d be back. Where is Emily?” - -“Wot t’hell!” - -“Where is the girl?” - -A gliding sounded over the matting of the room beyond the screen. -Emily thrust her head through the doorway. Her sherry-colored eyes -were red-rimmed, glazed with tears, sullen. The Dropper had just -finished his morning hate by upbraiding her. - -“Wot t’hell’s comin’ off?” rumbled the dive-keeper. “Beat it, cul, -before I wake up. I’m going to wham yuh one.” - -Fay swiftly hooked his cane over the edge of an empty bunk, removed -his hat, took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves. - -“I didn’t bring a gat!” he snapped. “I don’t need one. Get into that -room, set the card-table back and pile up the chairs. Get ready, you -fink, for what’s coming to you.” - - * * * * * - -The Dropper found himself in the grip of a situation not exactly to -his liking. He backed from Fay. He crashed over the screen. He -turned, thrust Emily aside, and shelved forward his shoulders in an -aggressive posture. His brows worked up and down. The scar on his -cheek grew livid. - -“Hol’ on,” he started to protest. - -Fay stepped swiftly forward, whipped over a lightning uppercut, and -jabbed with his left fist toward the brute’s stomach. Both blows had -force enough to land the Dropper against the card-table. - -He went down like a pole-axed bullock. He rose in his might and rage. -His bellowing could have been heard a block away. He came at Fay -unskillfully--thrown off balance by the sudden attack. - -The clean life of a supercrook stood Fay in good stead. His weight -was less than half that of the Dropper’s. But he more than made up -for this by the swiftness of his blows. He tormented the brute by -jabs, hooks and side-stepping. - -The Dropper was no novice at boxing. Once, years before, he had been -Honest Abe’s chief bouncer. He had broken men’s heads and hurled -derelicts from barrooms. He knew the rudiments of wrestling. - -Slowly his thick brain came into action. He covered his jaw with a -shelving shoulder. He put down his bulletlike head and started to -bore through the rain of blows. With wild swings he forced Fay -against the poker-table. It went over and rolled to the wall near -where Emily crouched. - -The cracksman glided around the Dropper and shadow-tormented him. He -struck straight from the shoulder. He was two-fisted and agile. Each -flash of his eye was marked by a stinging blow. A crescendo of -effort, all to the brute’s purple face, had its effect. The Dropper -started gasping. He lowered his fists. He breathed, waiting. He -grunted as he followed Fay--blindly, grossly. A red gleam showed where -his lids were puffing. - - * * * * * - -Fay felt his own strength waning. He called on all his latent -nerve-force. He became a tiger. He leaped, drove a smashing fist -between the Dropper’s gorilla-like brows, stepped back, dodged a -swing, then repeated the blow. He played for this mark. The fury of -his assault was like an air-hammer on a rivet. It deadened the -brute’s brain. It made him all animal. - -A bull’s roar filled the room. Goaded to an open defense, the Dropper -abandoned science. He tried to grasp his tormentor. His huge hands -groped through the air. He stumbled and searched. He fell over a -chair. He rose to his knees. Fay waited, hooked a short, elbow-jab -between the eyes. He followed with his left. His arm snapped in its -sting. He backed, side-stepped, and started around the Dropper, -delivering blows like a cooper finishing a barrel. - -A red rage came to the cracksman that was terrible in its ferocity. -He forgot Emily. He saw only the swollen thing before him. He wanted -to kill. He sought for the opening. - -Abandoning his straight jabs, he danced in and out with short-arm -swings to the face and neck and eyes. He pounded the ears until they -resembled cauliflowers. He made a pulp of the Dropper’s face. - -The end came in less than a second. Beaten into near-insensibility, -tottering and bloated--the Dropper attempted to reach the door that -led to the opium-joint. He remembered a gat he had planted there. He -lowered his shielding left shoulder. His jaw was exposed. - -Fay poised on tiptoes, drew back his right fist and sent it home with -the tendons of his legs strained in the effort. His weight, his rage, -his science and clean living were in that blow. It milled the brute, -staggered and brought him crashing, first to his knees, then over on -his back, where he lay with his swollen face turned toward the -ceiling. - -Little Emily glided to the door. She waited with her eyes fixed and -shimmering. - -Fay breathed deeply. He turned, unrolled his silk sleeves and said: - -“Will--you--get my hat and coat and cane, please?” - -Little Emily helped him on with his coat. Her hands trembled. - -“Now get _your_ things. You’re going away from here.” - -She returned within three minutes. - -“I’m ready,” she said. - -“You saw me knock him out?” - -“Yes.” - -“Go look at him.” - -Emily hurried into the room. She knelt by the Dropper’s head. She -came back to Fay and whispered: - -“I’m not afraid of him any more.” - -“Why, little Emily?” - -“Because you are stronger than he is.” - -Fay opened the door that led to the hallway where the gas-flare -showed in the gloom. - -“Have you everything?” he asked. - -Emily pointed to a pasteboard hatbox. Fay lifted it gallantly. - -“Come on,” he said. - -“Where are you going to take me?” she asked, humbly. - -“I’m going to take you to the house of the good woman on the Hudson.” - -“And what are _you_ going to do?” - -“I? I’m going to get word to Charley O’Mara that I kept my -promise--and his kid’s all right.” - - -THE END - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the February 1920 issue -of Blue Book magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND THE WALL *** - -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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