Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1934-05-18
CHAPTER 1

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ground of soft darkness, flared the
beacons of Broadway, the gigantic IL
Illuminated signs under whose glitter
and brilliance moved the crowd in its
nightly thousands.
Terry Niles of the Broadway Squad
was watching the human river flow
past the door of the corner cigar store
above Times Square where he had
paused to pick up a package OF Gig
arets. His eyes, Swallowed a little
by the brim of his light Bangkok
straw, had look of easy alertness in
them and his wide shoulders told of
plenty of young muscle under the care
fully-tailored coat. He might have
been a mere idler, one of the mass of
pleasure seekers, by his general APP
pearance, which more than once had
been deceptive to the members of the
tribe that prey upon society. Terry
Niles was not on Broadway for amuse-
ment; he was there strictly on bust
ness and as yet he had no idea what
the night might turn up.
He stepped a pace or so forward,
pausing in the doorway itself while he
brought a match to the cigaret that
was between his fingers. The even
ing pageant of the Lane of Light al
ways held fascination for him. No
where else in the world to his mind
was there such glamour of wealth,
color and contrast as that afforded
by Broadway in it's hours of vivid
night. Faces went by, as he stood
there, in an amending stream and he
never tired of watching them. Laugh
ter, sorrow, despair, gayety-all the
emotions were written on them. Sue
cess and failure jostled each other on
the pavement and high adventure and
crime walked side by side.
Crime, that was tat the thought
Terry Niles felt a quick tenseness.
He was there to prevent it, and, if
too late to prevent it, to bring it's
perpetrators to justice. When pleas
ure-seekers spent fortune along the
blazing miles of Broadway and in it's
crossstreets there was bound to be
a stratum of the underworld following
expertly on their track. There were
dimly-lit, raucously-decorated night
clubs where the elite of crookdom
met to plan their jobs and revel the
hours away with their jeweled women.
There were furtive bars tucked in
amid the glare of the big dance pal
aces, where criminals of every des-
cription took their ease. The sur
face of Broadway might be bright
with songs and lights and luxury,
but beneath it all was the sinister
undercurrent of lawlessness. No one
knew that any better than Terry
Niles of the Broadway Squad. On the
screen of a quick mind he was SUBJ
consciously registering the impress
ion made on him by the passers-by.
1t was part Of his job as detective
to miss nothing that came under his
gaze. The veriest trifles often meant
a great deal.
A famous theatrical producer in
flawless evening dress, an aged, shat
tered crone in rags whose name had
famed in the lights of past decades,
a sporting man whose bets ran into
the hundred of thousands, profess
ional beauty, glorious in silk and
pearls; star opportunities picked
them casually out of the crowd as it
milled on its way. And then face
seemed to leap at him out of the
dense-packed throng from only few
feet distant, young and lovely face
strained with fear and appeal.
1t was that Of girl and she was
not looking at him. She was look
ing at the eavy-jowled, big-bodied
man who was her escort and who was
snarling down at her shrinking fig
ure. Niles saw the girl jerk away
and then seemingly snap back to the
side of the man. He knew what that
meant. Her escort had grabbed her
by the wrist and yanlled her brutally
to him. On the heavy features brood
ed predatory expression. Gang
ster," said Niles to himself. He drop
ped his cigaret and started forward
The girl was not an ordinary gun
mans moll, it came to him on the in
slant. She was refined, beautiful
quietly dressed, out of place besid
her companion. Also she was oh
viously in trouble.
"None o that" snarled the big mar
Pain twisted the girls lips as he
slight form swayed to him with ar
other, even more savage wrench
"You can't pull the high-hat stuff O