Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1925-04-10

Phelan Takes
a Chance
By BAYARD SHARPE
10 by Western Newspaper Union,)


DOB PHELAN eased up ON the &C.
- cellerator and applied the brake
something about the license number
on the rear of the car ahead of him
holding his eyes. The number read:
9S6S00.
AS state motor vehicle inspector,
Bob knew exactly what was wrong
with the license number. So far the
state had not issued number plates
ever seven hundred thousand close
scrutiny showed that the number
should have read; six hundred and
eight thousand, nine hundred and
eighty-slx. The number plate was up
side down.
Must think we're all dum'bellsl"
Bob grlnned, pressing the throttle and
bringing the radiator Of his car paral-
lei with that of the other.
Glass to that baby-believes In
grabbln' good ones while he's at It'll
Dalpln-Six"
lie glanced casually at the driver
of the Dalpin, and unconsciously his
hands frightened on the steering wheel.
DIP Bob cussed emphatically
under his breath. "Fenny Thomas
shoot his grandmother an steal her
false teeth-an' me steppin' out to-
nlghtP Fat chance of gittin' himl"
Fenny Thomas had long been sus-
pected as the leader of an organized
band of automobile thieves; so far au-
thOrlties had failed to get the goods
on him.
"Lordy," Bob breathed. "Send me a
motor cop or something"
The driver of the Dalpin eased UP
on the throttle; Bob did likewise, fol-
lowing and keeping his front wheels
just to the rear of the Dalpin's big
nlckled bumper.
Bob's position as motor vehicle in
spector called for the wearing Of no
uniform; he was an officer of the
state, sworn to make arrests wherever
he found lnfractions against the state
motor vehicle laws.
As they sped along he began to won
der If the showdown, or whatever II
was was going to be, would make him
miss his date with the glrl-but, If he
could only get the Dalpln into traf-
fic Jam, any way to get his hands on
Thomas-he'd show 'em that Steve
Brodle wasn't the only bird that could
take chance
Suddenly, the driver of the Dalpin
signaled for a left turn--Bob's lips
became straight line he grlpped the
steering deliberately driving
his car into the Dalpin.
"Crash-Bang
The right front wheel of Bob's car,
hooked in the bumper Of the Dalpln,
struck the button In the center of the
street and collapsed The tire blew
out with roar. The Dalpin came to
a sklddlng stop, Its driver snorting:
"What the"
MY fault, Old Man" Smiling, Bob
shouted to make himself heard above
the noise Of the traffic. "Sleep at the
switch; didn't get your signal till too
late--no brakes Didn't hurt you
none"
The scowl on Fenny's face, just re-
axed. Back up SOS can get on my
wayl"
"Cramp your wheels, an back close
to the curb !" Bob shouted toward the
driver Of the Dalpin. Tugging at the
steering wheel, Thomas dropped into
reverse gear; as he did so Bob climbed
on the running board. Thomas brought
the gear shift into neutral.
SORRY 1t happened. Old Man" Bob
smiled apologetlcally, Here's ten.
spot to fix your bumperp He extend.
ed the bill.
Grinnlng, Thomas took the money.
Hard luck for your
yeah !" Bob sobered. Gotta date,
too-three-block walk is gonna make
me late-could-I ride q couple Of
blocks down the street with your
Thomas peered into Bob's lean face.
He saw nothing to excite his sus-
picion.
Get ini"
Smiling, Bob opened the door and
climbed into the seat beside him.
"Grr-reeck !"
The gear lever went into second and
with the click, as 1t snapped back into
high Thomas brought his hand back
to the steering wheel Then-Thomas
felt something Jab him In the ribs and
he heard Bob's voice rasping In his
ear:
Keep your hands on the wheel an
your eyes on the road an drive for
Central stntlOn--an' hit the bumps
easy II you don't want this gat to do
some eyacuatin'p
Curslng and trembling Thomas
obeyed, not even trusting glance at |
the something, covered by Bobs coat |
tail, that dug into his ribs; in fact he |
did not even demonstrate when Bob |
relieved him Of his own shining
weapon, and he was still trembling as
he led the way into the station but
as he stepped to the desk, he faced
Bob sneerlng:
Eyre a wise Dick awrlght, but II
you'd a took that gat outa my ribs,
and give me a chance-Td a. sure give
you the GAIT"
yeah" Bob griDned, thrusting out
his fist and almost touching the nose
of the sneering crook with the stubbed
end of a crippled index finger, May
be you think didn't take n chance.
this little old stub, with your imaglna.
tion-dld the trlck-my gat was home
on the dresser ~
Something Fierce
The Fight Promoter-They tell me