Evening star., 1941-01-26
Il Short Story Complete in This Issue

- n thieves numbers racket gentry; white,
tan, black; a variegated assortment of men
and women had streamed across the small
stage into the spotlight at Police Headquar-
ters. Sullen, slumping as they stepped close
to the microphone, they were peculiarly uni
form in their furtive stoiciSm. The expressions
they wore masks against police interrogation,
were all of one pattern. Their clothes were
motley lot torn sweaters, greasy windbreak-
ers, overalls, corduroy slacks
But not the young man who at this moment
advanced for questioning - not he! He was
unique, in full evening regalia. His long tailed
coat hugged his slim waist as though cut to
order by Fifth Avenue tailor.
True, his clothes showed the effects of a
night out. His tie had a jaunty slant and its
whiteness was on the shady side. His boiled
shirt boasted as many dents as the crater of
volcano. Trousers and patent leather
pumps were dirt-coated.
He had face you couldn't call homely
because of its quirk of humor, tied in with
twist of sadness. 1t was the face of clown
who smiles at the little tragedies of life and
tries bravey to meet the big ones. Unblinking
in the white blaze of the spotlight, of all the
men in the lineup, he was the first whose eyes
had not closed for a dazzled second under its
glare.
When he approached the microphone nom
chalantly and looked toward the officer about
to question him, he made me think of a radio
performer waiting for the signal to indicate
he is on the air.
Did you register at the Hotel Pike under
the name of Ferdinand B. White?"
Yes sir"
us that your correct name?"
NO sir"
What is your correct name?"
The answer came half-apologetically, as if
he realized the police would not believe him:
William S. Malvoio'
The interrogating officer said curtly, Spell
it,
In a pleasant tone, the prisoner obliged.
AS he did So the clown smile lifted one corner
of his mouth and he appeared to wait for some
indication that his inquisitor was acquainted
with Mr.. William Shakespeares writings.
But the name was recorded without hitch.
Present address," the officer clipped be-
tween the scissors of his lips.
"A bench in Bryant Park"
The officer put down his pen and intently
surveyed the suspect; slow stare that made
definite note of all details. This is no Joke
want to know the street where you live and
the number"
This certainly is no joke to me, came the
polite response. AT the moment, Bryant Park
is the only address have"
i HE officer went on with crisp impatience,
will Mr. Mortimer EndiCott, night clerk at
man who on January sixth last quit the
Hotel Pike without settling his bill of three
weeks standing?"
Its the same dead beatr a voice an
nounced from the darkness.
So that was the charge. A young scalawag
who lived at decent hotels for as long as he
could get away with it, then walked out on
unpaid bills! Secretly | had hoped for a
more dramatic revelation.
Next to me in the visitors section of the
darkened auditorium, Chief Inspector Wasp
Cardigan bent to whisper, Something famil-
lar in that face"
glanced from the stage to the detective.
His long fingers drew along the black stubble
of his chin until they met at the point. The
gesture was speculative and puzzled.
Until that second, hadn't considered MIR.
Ho1, ol;c'c ~ln