The Masked Woman. Johnston McCulley

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— he has no chicken farm, or anything of the sort.”

      “He’s got a chicken farm, all right — pastures ’em in the cabarets,” “Red” Riley said.

      “Hamilton Brone is concerned in my enter­prise,” Mme. Madcap told them.

      “If you’re out to pluck that guy, and there’s a chance of doin’ it, I’m in!” Riley said.

      Mme. Madcap raised her hands and removed her mask. Prof. Salwick uttered a little cry of delight, and “Red” Riley gasped his admiration.

      She probably was twenty-four. Her features were regular, charming. There was an adorable dimple just where a dimple should nestle against the chin. Her eyes were blue and her hair almost golden.

      “It’s bunk!” Riley exclaimed. “You ain’t any more a crook then a preacher’s wife could be! With that face? Professor, if you want to hook up with this jane, you go right ahead and do it. I’m goin’ to walk out the front door of this buildin’ and go about my business.”

      “I regret that I cannot allow that,” Mme. Mad­cap said. “You have seen my face and have heard a little of my plans. I cannot allow you to go now, knowing as much as you do.”

      “What’s to stop me?” “Red” Riley asked.

      Mme. Madcap raised her voice.

      “Sambo!” she called.

      There entered from an adjoining room, immediately, the largest black man “Red” Riley had ever seen. His face was that of a brute. His gnarled hands were massive; there were roils of muscles on his arms and shoulders, and he towered over six feet tall.

      “Sambo,” said Mme. Madcap, “do you see that man in the chair at the end of the table?”

      She pointed a forefinger at “Red” Riley, and Sambo nodded that he saw.

      “He does not wish to join us, Sambo, and I desire him to do so,” she continued. “He will understand later, and possibly be glad. But just now he wishes to leave, and I cannot allow it.”

      “He won’t leave, miss,” Sambo said.

      CHAPTER IV

      A New Sensation

      “Red” Riley’s eyes bulged, and he measured the distance to the door, deciding instantly that he could not reach it if Sambo essayed to prevent him. The giant black man extended his half closed hands a few inches, as if about to grasp something by the throat and choke the life out of it, and grinned.

      “Man,” Sambo said, “I’ve got my oders, and I’m going to carry ’em out. You’d better submit, man! Don’t you rile me, or I’m liable to get violent!”

      “Keep away from me!” “Red” Riley ex­claimed. “You put your paws on me, and I’ll make hash out of you!”

      He sprang for the door, for Sambo had moved a few feet away from it. He reached it — and felt his feet leave the floor. “Red” Riley realized that the giant had lifted him bodily.

      Though still weak from his battle in the alley, “Red” Riley was not the man to submit without opposition in such an emergency. He attempted to kick and strike, and merely succeeded in exhausting himself. Sambo tucked him beneath one arm, held both his wrists in the grasp of one hand, dragged his feet on the floor, and so carried him into the hallway.

      The giant carried “Red” Riley speedily along the hall, up another flight of stairs, and opened a door. Still hold­ing Riley beneath his arm, the man reached for a switch and turned on the electric lights.

      “Red” Riley gasped in mingled terror and surprise. The room was enough to make his insides squirm. It was of med­ium size, and there was not a bit of furniture in it. But, in the center, were two steel cages about eight feet square, each supplied with an iron bunk and a metal stool. “Red” Riley, who had been incarcerated a few times, shuddered. The cages certainly looked like detention cells.

      Sambo threw “Red” Riley into one of the little cells, slammed and locked the door, and put the key into his pocket. Then he snapped out the lights and departed. “Red” Riley heard the key turned in the lock of the outer door.

      On the floor below, Prof. Salwick was in close conversation with Mme. Madcap.

      “It is my wish that you do these things I have told you,” she said, “and ask no questions about it at the present time. You are willing?”

      “More than willing — delighted.” Prof. Salwick assured her.

      “And you are to forget that you are a criminal while in the presence of other persons, of course. A great deal depends upon our work tonight. I have been prepared for some time, but had almost des­paired of getting the proper man for the task until good fortune brought you to my door.”

      “Say, rather, that it was my good fortune to be rescued by such a charming woman,” the professor replied. “But one thing troubles me — I shall have to have evening dress. I have retained my apartment uptown, of course, though engaging a room in the — er — nefarious district. Or may a district be nefarious? No matter!”

      “We have ample time,” said Mme. Madcap. “We shall drive to your apartment, and then I’ll drive through the part while you are dressing.”

      She touched a bell on the table, and Sambo ap­peared.

      “How about Mr. Riley?” she asked.

      “He is thinkin’ it ovah.”

      “Very well. We’ll start in five minutes,” said Mme. Madcap.

      Sambo disappeared. Mme. Madcap took up the mask and fixed it over her face again. It was a serviceable mask, and its lines were such that they de­stroyed identity effectually.

      “There is another matter,” she said. “I speak of it now just to get it fixed in your mind. There is a man name Brute Wilger; I want you to locate him later. Also a man known as ‘Gentleman Joe’ Marget. You already have met ‘Shifty’ Slade. I shall have to smooth over your trouble with him. You see, professor, I want those three men in my organization.”

      Mme. Madcap glanced at the clock on the wall.

      “I think that it is time for us to go,” she said.

      They went to the lower floor, along the hall there, and came to a little door which Mme. Madcap opened. The professor saw before him a narrow, dark passage. Through this he followed Mme. Mad­cap for a distance of fifty feet, and then she flashed an electric torch. Before them was another door, and beside it, a woman’s long cloak on a hook. Mme. Madcap took the cloak down, and Prof. Salwick held it for her. Then she unlocked and opened the door.

      They emerged into an alley less than twenty feet from the side street where a limousine stood at the curb. Sambo was holding the door open. They hurried along the wall, across the walk, and sprang into the limousine. Sambo went in front and got behind the wheel. Mme. Madcap gave him the address of the apartment house where the professor had his rooms.

      Once there, the professor hurried inside, his heart fluttering at the romance of it and the unusual haste, and Mme. Madcap

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