Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1902-06-20
MR.. MALoNEY's LUCK COMES OUT
AHEAD

| striped shirt bosom stifly starched and
| ornamented with three large diamond
studs which sparltled gaily in the rays of
| light from the green lamps at the sta
| ton house door.
| The sergeant was sitting at the head of
| the steps in front of the door with his
| chair tilted back and his feet, incased in
shiny and uncomfortably small looking
| patent leather shoes resting gracefully on
| the railing before him.
The wide doors of the station house
| were thrown open to let the night winds
| dry up the floor which had Just been
scrubbed and from which arose a not un-
| pleasant odor family suggestive of cool
pine woods
The only sound inside the station house
| was the ticking of the clock behind the
| sergeant's desk and the houses across
| the street were dark and silent save for
| the faint tinkle of a banjo in the hands
| of some unseen negro.
| Lawson" said the sergeant. extract
| ing black cigar from beneath his blond
| mustache. you're off tomorrow. You're
| going down to the Suburban of course"
| Yep" said Lawson, the detective, aris-
| ing from his seat on the steps and
| stretching his tightly trousered legs.
| I'm going down to the Suburban, but
| don't know which horse I'm going to
| play. 1t looks to me like Fleet Foot
| but I haven't any tips. I thought that
| maybe the old man would get tip and
|
Night last year 1t was an s to 1 shot
and l won S406 on it."
| wasn't lettin' anything get past me
that time. either" said the sergeant. but
I don't know a thing now. I never get
| near a race track, and the old man don't
| seem to take no interest in racin' these
| days. I wish I had tip for the race
| tomorrow, so I could let you place bet
| for me when you was down at Sleeps
head. Things is awful slow tonight,
| amt they?"
| well here comes something. for sure"
| said Lawson pointing toward the avenue.
| The sergeant turned his eyes lazily in
the direction indicated The light from
| a lamppost showed a group of nearly
| twenty people passing under 1.-THE he'll
| met and brass buttons of a patrolman. a
| broad-shouldered man walking beside
| him with a jaunty swagger wearing a
| brown derby hat very much on one side
| of his head, and an excited group of
| men, women and children following the
| two.
Some bum" said the sergeant, aris-
ing YEARLY "Mulligan's always pickn'
| up drunks. That means more writn'
for me and trip to court for Mulligan
| on his day off tomorrow. He ought
| to know better than to pinch every
| drunken man he sees. He'll never be
in plain clothes. He's too conscientious
to be a detective"
THAT looks like a swell guy he's got.
| He amt under arrest neither" said Law
| son as Muligan arrived at the station
house door with his companion and
| turned to dispense the crowd which fol-
| lowed him.
"G'wan," shouted Mullgan. waving his
club. "g'wan, or al Jock yez all up"
| The crowd scattered and Mulligan fol-
lowed his companion into the station
| house. where the sergeant was already
| seated at his desk. pen in hand, Under
the brilliant lights inside the stranger
showed that Lawson's surmise was cor
rect and that he was indeed swell
guy"
A large golden horseshoe set with da
| monds that far outshone the sergeants
nestled in a tie of many colors. and his
coat, padded manfully by his tailor, was
thrown open to show y double-breasted
plaid waistcoat of large and brilliant de-
sign.
| His trousers were tighter and more
carefully creased than Lawsons. his
patent lea Their shoes SINNER and more un-
comfortable looking than the sergeants
and his mustache a more brilliant black
than the one which ornamented Multi
gan's face, of which he was so justly
proud. AS he stepped before the desk
his hat struck the gas bracket on it
and rolled on the ground.
Lawson picked ii up and handed II back
to its owner. glancing adroity inside it
as he did so to ascertain the name of its
| maker.
IT'S a fve-dollar hat" he muttered
He's the real thing sure
There's me card" said the stranger
taking one from a wallet and handing il
to the sergeant. Me name is Maloney-
| William Nicholas Maloney-and some
gent has lifted me roll of bills-s5O0
had it to bet on sure thing tomorrow
la to l shot. 1t means that | lose
| $1,000 for 1t was a sure thing and the
| money was a good as in me pocket
I'm n contractor in Bridgeport Conn.,
and Bill Maginnis, the racin' man, who
has stable up there, is like a brother
to me. He put me on to a sure thing
and I come here to make $500. I always
have good luck.
"Maloney's luck is famous in Bridge
port but this time it turned ag'in me. 1
was goin' around seem the sights here
and somebody must have picked me pock-
ct in a barroom where | was settin' up
the drinks"
The loud voice and splendid raiment of
William Nicholas Maloney had a decided
effect in the station house. The door
man who had been absorbed in a sporting
edition of an evening paper in the back
room, left 1t to gaze on this splendid in
| dividual.
Connors and Slattery. station house de-
tectives, who had been flirting with the
dark-haired Irish girl in the little grocery
store next door, ungallantly deserted her
to join the group in the police station.
The sergeant dropped his stern, official
manner with his pen, and leaving his
seat behind the desk, leaned affably over
the railing in front of it. Mulligan, swing
d. ing his club and curling his mustache
in respectful silence, kept his eyes fixed
in a hypnotic stare on Mr.. Maloney s
horseshoe pin, while Lawson politely
drew forward a chair for the Bridgeport
contractor and offered him a cigar.
Mr.. Maloney, however, waved this aside
| with one pudgy hand. while with the
e other he drew forth leather cigar case
decorated with a large and complicated
monogram in silver.
Have one on me-" he said; ITS up to
| me. I've been trimmed. William Nicholas
: Maloney has been trimmed. His luck
has left him."
Everybody took a cigar, except the
doorman who stealthily possessed him
self of two while the owner of the cigar
case was telling the sergeant that the
cigars had been sent to him by his son
. | an officer in the Regular army in Porto
Rico. Mr.. Maloney, breathing heavily
and wipng the perspiration from his rud'
| dy face with a large silk handkerchief
continued his discourse amid thick
: cloud of smoke.
1T think it was in Smiths saloon" he
said. II was buying drinks for the
}. bunch, and 1 hauled out me roll of $50
= by accident. / had 1t by itself and ha6
me money for expenses in another poek
:. ct.
: There was a big black coon there