Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 51, No. 2, June 28, 1930

“What’s more, Mamie, I ain’t never going to let no poverty stricken fool that gets himself into trouble waste my time. I’m off this charity stuff forever.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oakes pounded the desk.

“No. From now on I got to see the cash before I lift a little finger. Cash in advance, Mamie. No exceptions. Now we’ll get busy on this Markum case. And if any one comes butting in—”

The door was opened. Rather, it flew open. A young man was standing in the doorway.

He was quite a young man, not much over twenty. A rather undersized young man, whose bow tie was twisted to an almost vertical position, whose hand trembled on the doorknob, and whose eyes were wide with agitation.

Oakes glared at him indignantly. The young man closed the door, and hurried in.

“Mr. Oakes?” he inquired.

“Yeah. But I’m busy.”

“It’s awful important, Mr. Oakes.”

The young man’s voice was rising, until it was almost shrill.

“Important! Huh! It may be important to yon, young feller, but to me—”

“The cops are after me,” blurted out the young man.

Oakes began to roll another cigarette. He shifted uneasily in his chair.

“Cops or no cops,” he objected vigorously, “I’m busy, and I can’t be bothered—”

“They’re after me!” the young man repeated.

“Well, why come to me?”

“I read about you in the papers—”

“Have you got any money?”

“Why, no, sir, but—”

“Then get out,” said Hugo Oakes.

The young man looked at him, despairingly, his mouth open.

“But they’re after me,” he insisted. “I called up home not long ago, and found out — they’re after me.”

“What for?”

“Murder.”

“Well, you shouldn’t commit murder — not unless you got money.”

“I didn’t,” the young man protested.

“Another innocent victim of circumstances,” Oakes sneered. “What’s your name?”

“Larry — Larry Deronda.”

“Who got killed?”

“Mr. Lanyon. Sydney Lanyon.”

In spite of himself, Oakes looked interested.

“Lanyon, eh? Big theatrical guy, ain’t he?”

“A big bum,” exploded Larry Deronda.

“Well, I guess he is by this time,” Oakes grinned. “Where did he get killed?”

“Out on the county highway, near the Broken Lantern.”

“Broken Lantern? Who busted it?”

“That’s a road house, Mr. Oakes. Called the Broken Lantern. There’s another road house right across the highway from it called the Blue Plume. They found Lanyon on the road outside the Broken Lantern.”

“When was this?”

“Oh, about three o’clock this morning, sir. Maybe a little before.”

“What was Lanyon doing out there at three o’clock this morning?”

“He was with my sister, Myrtle.”

“Ah! And what was your sister doing out there at three o’clock this morning?”

“Why, she — Sis was a waitress in the Broken Lantern. She works until two in the morning. Lanyon called for her when she got off work, and took her across the road to the Blue Plume.”

“Lanyon was sweet on your sister, was he?”

Larry Deronda screwed up his face as if he was about to weep.

“He... he was a dirty liar, Mr. Oakes. He claimed he was going to put Sis on the stage, and all that hooey. But he... he—”

“You mean his intentions weren’t honorable?”

“Sure. I mean he was a dirty skunk.”

Apparently Oakes had completely forgotten that he was very busy on the Markum case. He leaned across the desk, and let his half-rolled cigarette drop on the floor.

“Now, Larry, what were you doing out on the county highway at three o’clock in the morning?”

Larry Deronda flushed.

“I... I was watching them, Mr. Oakes. I was afraid something might happen to Sis. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. So I went out there to watch them.”

“Tut, tut! Spying on your own sister! Did you see anything?”

“Not much, sir. There’s a field on one side of the Blue Plume. I was in the field, looking through a side window. Sis and Lanyon were sitting at a table. Then a waiter came up and gave a message to Sis. Pretty soon she got up and walked out. She walked across the highway toward the Broken Lantern. Then, in few minutes, the waiter went to the table again and gave Lanyon a message, and he got up and went out, too.”

“That was the last you saw of them?”

“No, sir. That is, it was the last I saw of Sis. I stayed there in the field. But after a while I got to thinking maybe they were not coming back to the Blue Plume. I figured I’d better cross the road where I could look into the Broken Lantern. So I got through the fence and sneaked across the highway—”

Larry Deronda’s legs seemed to get weak suddenly. He dropped into a chair.

“Well?” Oakes prompted.

“I... I was across the road, Mr. Oakes, almost directly in front of the Broken Lantern, and I ran right into the body of a man lying by the side of the road. There was a little light, and I leaned over and saw that it was Lanyon. Well, I felt like yelling at the top of my voice, I was so glad to see that rat dead. But, at that, I was pretty scared.”

“And so you went into the Broken Lantern and called up the police?” Oakes suggested.