Alleys of Darkness | Page 3

like that ain't necessarily a compliment; some of the things
said about me ain't flattering; but I took it in the spirit in which it
seemed to be give, and I said: "Now tell me, who is this rat?"
He glanced nervously around, then whispered: "Ace Bissett!"
I grunted in surprize. "The devil you say! I'd never of thought it."
"He's a fiend in human form," said Whithers bitterly. "What's your
plan?"
"Why," I said, "I'll go to his Diamond Palace and demand the
confession. If he don't give it to me, I'll maul him and take it away from
him."
"You'll get shot up," said Whithers. "Bissett is a bad man to fool with.
Listen, I got a plan. If we can get him to a certain house I know about,
we can search him for the paper. He carries it around with him, though
I don't know just where. Here's my plan--"
I listened attentively, and as a result, perhaps a hour later I was heading
through the narrer streets with Spike, driving a closed car which
Whithers had produced kinda mysteriously. Whithers wasn't with me;
he was gone to prepare the place where I was to bring Bissett to.
I driv up the alley behind Ace's big new saloon and gambling-hall, the
Diamond Palace, and stopped the car near a back door. It was a very

high-class joint. Bissett was friends with wealthy sportsmen, officials,
and other swells. He was what they call a soldier of fortune, and he'd
been everything, everywhere--aviator, explorer, big game hunter,
officer in the armies of South America and China--and what have you.
A native employee stopped me at the door, and asked me what was my
business, and I told him I wanted to see Ace. He showed me into the
room which opened on the alley, and went after Bissett--which could
not of suited my plan better.
Purty soon a door opened, and Bissett strode in--a tall, broad-
shouldered young fellow, with steely eyes and wavy blond hair. He was
in a dress suit, and altogether looked like he'd stepped right outa the
social register. And as I looked at him, so calm and self-assured, and
thought of poor Whithers being driv to crime by him, and the Old Man
losing his ship on account of his crookedness, I seen red.
"Well, Dorgan, what can I do for you?" he asked.
I said nothing. I stepped in and hooked my right to his jaw. It caught
him flat-footed, with his hands down. He hit the floor full length, and
he didn't twitch.
I bent over him, run my hands through his clothes, found his six-
shooter and throwed it aside. Music and the sounds of revelry reached
me through the walls, but evidently nobody had seen or heard me slug
Bissett. I lifted him and histed him onto my shoulders--no easy job,
because he was as big as me, and limp as a rag.
But I done it, and started for the alley. I got through the door all right,
which I was forced to leave open, account of having both hands full,
and just as I was dumping Ace into the back part of the car, I heered a
scream. Wheeling, I seen a girl had just come into the room I'd left, and
was standing frozen, staring wildly at me. The light from the open door
shone full on me and my captive. The girl was Glory O'Dale, Ace
Bissett's sweetheart. I hurriedly slammed the car door shut and jumped
to the wheel, and as I roared off down the alley, I was vaguely aware
that Glory had rushed out of the building after me, screaming blue

murder.
IT WAS PURTY late, and the route I took they wasn't many people
abroad. Behind me I begun to hear Bissett stir and groan, and I pushed
Spike over in the back seat to watch him. But he hadn't fully come to
when I drawed up in the shadows beside the place Whithers had told
me about--a ramshackle old building down by a old rotting, deserted
wharf. Nobody seemed to live anywheres close around, or if they did,
they was outa sight. As I clum outa the car, a door opened a crack, and
I seen Whithers' white face staring at me.
"Did you get him, Sailor?" he whispered.
For answer I jerked open the back door, and Bissett tumbled out on his
ear and laid there groaning dimly. Whithers started back with a cry.
"Is he dead?" he asked fearfully.
"Would he holler like that if he was?" I asked impatiently. "Help me
carry him in, and we'll search him."
"Wait'll I tie him up," said Whithers, producing some cords, and to my
disgust, he bound the unconscious critter hand and