The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1931-11-03
Gems Of Peril !, e e.

Of the taxi accident, when she
caught sight Of an unforgettably
ugly face reflected in a sideboard
mirror. 1t was Mike, the waiter.
why, there's" she began, but
Bowen's gesture stopped her.
Better not" he said. Nothing
to be scared of. 1 just don't under
stand all I know about this place,
that's all. I'm going to find out
something tonight"
Nike served them with an impas-
sive c-ountenance. The fat pro-
prietor looked in from an adjoining
room, nodded to Bowen, failed to
recognize Mary in her evening at
tire, apparently, and slipped back.
THAT'S Jack Shay" Bowen told
l. her in a low tone. Jacks
scared stiff. Somebody slammed in
to the front of his place this after
noon, and he hasn't stopped shak-
ing yet.
Jack can't figure out what
they're after him for, Mike tells me,
but he's gonna put the buns rush
on some guy he's got laying up up
stairs. Thinks it's him they're after.
Gang stuff, probably"
Mary burst out laughing and told
about the accident.
Well, keep it under your hat"
Bowen advised. Let Jack worry a
little, it won't hurt him. Teach
him not to let those buns hang
around here the way he does.
Jacks a right guy, but he's al
ways taking it On the knuckles for
some other guy. He's a regular
grandma to all the crooks in Chris
tendon. When they get in trouble,
they take it on the lam for Jacks,
and he puts 'em up till they can
get out Of town or it blows over.
"All I had to do was tell him Mike
had a record, and he took him on.
Heart as big as a beer-keg."
He grinned. That's why we're
dining in this dump tonight in
stead of in a joint that would fit
those swell clothes of yours. I'm
eating off the cuff this week.
Then to avoid the solicitude in
her eyes, he added quickly, Il Won
der who it is he's got upstairs?
Vivian Gordon's murderer, or the
guy that shot Rothstein?" He was
being funny, now, and Mary smiled
appreciatiyely.
Mike, the waiter, totaled up the
bill, scrubbed on a pad, and laid
the sheet of paper face down on
the table.
Bowen picked it up and prepared
to sign it. His face changed color
as he read. He handed it to Mary.
THE Fly is here" she read.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"OH, waiter!"
W Mike had moved off, but
Dirk called him back Where is
hep"
Mike jerked a thumb toward the
door at the rear of the room-the
one leading into the private dining
room through which Mary had
passed in leaving the place that
afternoon.
Hes the one Jacks been hid
ing?"
Mike nodded.
Wen have to work fast" Bowen
told Mary. 1t was plain that he
was disconnected by the news. His
eyes glittered under their sleepy
lids and the hand that plucked a
fresh cigaret and lit it trembled.
AS for herself, Mary knew that
she ought to feel terrified, but she
did not. She merely was tremend-
ously excited and filled with a kind
of hard joy. Crisis was at hand!
"They took me through that room
this afternoon" she whispered.
There we're some men in there
then. How does he look, The Fly?"
Bowen answered absently, II
don't know. God, what I'd give for
the nerve to walk through that door
and poke him one!" He flicked a
match away viciously.
"Oh, don't! He'd kill you," Mary
gasped.
He withdrew from that ~glittering
day-dream to smile.
Don't worry. I'm no Jack the
Giant Killer, If he got away, he
might go cunning for Jack, as a
sQuealer. Can't let anything hap
pen to Jack the newspaper mans
hope" He gnawed his underlip in
a frenzy of concentration.
you said you had an idea," Mary
reminded him timidly.
AN idea for flushing him when
we didn't know where he was
Bowen replied. It's not necessary
now He relapsed into discon-
tented abstraction.
What was it?" she probed.
wan