Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1919-05-18


l had no chance to give much thought
to this. for at almost the same time
caught sight of Sloan himself, in
department car driven by Doyle, COM
ing from the direction of Madison ave-
nue.. At the same time that this car
shuddered down to almost a standstill,
to keep from colliding with the line
shutting UP 9Th avenue, I called out
to Sloan as he stood up in his seat, star
ing ahead of him. In the excitement,
in fact. I'd clutched my bag Of tapioca
SO tightly that my finger had gone
through the paper. And I suppose it
was more an unwilled reaction than
conscious effort, but to attract my
chiefs attention something prompted
me to gather a handful of that tapioca
which had dribbled through the hole and
fling it straight at Sloan's distracted
figure as he swept past me.
He saw me, I felt sure. but he saw
me without quite knowing It, for even
as Doyle threaded a path across the
avenue a tall and somber figure. emerg-
ing apparently from some doorway In
the side street straight ahead. 1eaped
into the waiting taxicab with the Hat
tened tires, threw open the throttle and
started to speed away.
There was at almost the same time
the sharp double crack of two pistol
shots, but I paid scant attention to
them, for what most impressed me at
the moment was the discovery that the
man who had leaped into the taxicab
was Citrate Sam himself. Nor could
stand there watching the fight Of Gu
rate Sam westward along that side
street before Sloan's pursuing car. For
already on the avenue, not fifty yards
from where stood, other and equally
engrossing things were taking place.
Old Nutty Coombs had shuffied along
southward Before one Of the shop
fronts he came to a sudden stop, star
ing at an affair quite arresting enough
to excuse his momentary curiosity. At
the curb. within fifteen feet of where
he stood, the morning crowds OF 9Th
avenue were being RECALLED with the
unusual spectacle of a first fight between
two brawny figures who struck with
much Of the spectacular adroitness or
the prize ring itself.
But it was not this fight that
brought me suddenly across the ave-
nue., with the bag of tapioca still un-
der NV arm. 1t was the discovery
that Nutty Coombs had come to stop
directly in front of the plates glass
window of Scarr & Burton. the win
dow which had held and sheltered the
Blue Pear itself.
Yet, even before this discovery had
made itself quite plain to me. the de-
jected-eyed old man in the greasy
looking overcoat had quietly unrollet
a square of Canton flannel and pulled
it's two sticky leaves apart. Then
backing still closer against the plat
glass, he had pressed this strang'
plaster against the window, using, no
his hands, but his body, for the pur
pose All the while, in fact. he seem
ed to be staring at that quick-mov
ing fight, about which denser AM
eyer-denser crowd was collecting. Blu
in his right hand could already Sc
a small square parcel. wrapped II
yellow paper. And as he stood tner
he calmly swung this hand forwar
and then back again. with shar
understroke, that was as undemon
strative as 1t was effective.
The sound of that blow Of paper
wrapped cobblestone against tn
plate glass window couldn't hav
been a loud one. It failed, in fact, t
reach my own ears. for the sirup-cov
cred square Of flannel, clinging to tn
glass. both mufFied the report OF tn
impact and limited tho area OF tn
breakage. But 1t had done Its worl
For the next moment Nutty Coomo'
long arm had slipped in through tn
broken glass, unnoticed and unchal
lenged. He caught up the Blue Pea
from where it rested on its plaque
black velvet. Then. with stroke
luck, for which Nutty himself wa
plainly unprepared. he ambled 0
again down the avenue. quite unot
served.
Yet at the same moment tht
Toosey's incredulous traffic policema
came shouldering through that curl
side crowd, where Chick Eberts ar
b;a comnanion were so boisterous