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Title: Alleys of Darkness
Author: Robert E. Howard
A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook
eBook No.: 0609051.txt
Language: English
Date first posted: December 2006
Date most recently updated: December 2006
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Alleys of Darkness
Robert E. Howard
WHEN THE GONG ended my fight with Kid Leary in the Sweet Dreams
Fight Club, Singapore, I was tired but contented. The first seven
rounds had been close, but the last three Iâd plastered the Kid all
over the ring, though I hadnât knocked him out like Iâd did in
Shanghai some months before, when I flattened him in the twelfth
round. The scrap in Singapore was just for ten; another round and Iâd
had him.
But anyway, Iâd shaded him so thoroughly I knowed Iâd justified
the experts which had made me a three to one favorite. The crowd was
applauding wildly, the referee was approaching, and I stepped forward
and held out my glove handâwhen to my utter dumfoundment, he brushed
past me and lifted the glove of the groggy and bloody Kid Leary!
A instantâs silence reigned, shattered by a nerve-racking scream
from the ringside. The referee, Jed Whithers, released Leary, who
collapsed into the rosin, and Whithers ducked through the ropes like a
rabbit. The crowd riz bellowing, and recovering my frozen wits, I gave
vent to lurid langwidge and plunged outa the ring in pursuit of
Whithers. The fans was screaming mad, smashing benches, tearing the
ropes offa the ring and demanding the whereabouts of Whithers, soâs
they could hang him to the rafters. But he had disappeared, and the
maddened crowd raged in vain.
I found my way dazedly to my dressing-room, where I set down on a
table and tried to recover from the shock. Bill OâBrien and the rest
of the crew was there, frothing at the mouth, each having sunk his
entire wad on me. I considered going into Learyâs dressing-room and
beating him up again, but decided heâd had nothing to do with the
crooked decision. He was just as surprised as me when Whithers
declared him winner.
Whilst I was trying to pull on my clothes, hindered moreân helped
by my raging shipmates, whose langwidge was getting more appalling
every instant, a stocky bewhiskered figger come busting through the
mob, and done a fantastic dance in front of me. It was the Old Man,
with licker on his breath and tears in his eyes.
âIâm rooint!â he howled. âIâm a doomed man! Oh, to think as Iâve
warmed a sarpint in my boozum! Dennis Dorgan, this hereâs the last
straw!â
âAw, pipe down!â snarled Bill OâBrien. âIt wasnât Dennyâs fault.
It was that dashety triple-blank thief of a refereeââ
âTo think of goinâ on the beach at my age!â screamed the Old Man,
wringing the salt water outa his whiskers. He fell down on a bench and
wept at the top of his voice. âA thousand bucks I lostâevery cent I
could rake, scrape and borrer!â he bawled.
âAw, well, you still got your ship,â somebody said impatiently.
âThatâs just it!â the Old Man wailed. âThat thousand bucks was
dough owed them old pirates, McGregor, McClune & McKile. Part of what
I owe, I mean. They agreed to accept a thousand as part payment, and
gimme more time to raise the rest. Now itâs gone, and theyâll take the
ship! Theyâll take the Python! All I got in the world! Them old
sharks ainât got no more heart than a Malay pirate. Iâm rooint!â
The crew fell silent at that, and I said: âWhyâd you bet all that
dough?â
âI was lickered up,â he wept. âI got no sense when Iâm full. Old
Capân Donnelly, and McVey and them got to ragginâ me, and the first
thing I knowed, Iâd bet âem the thousand, givinâ heavy odds. Now Iâm
rooint!â
He throwed back his head and bellered like a walrus with the
belly-ache.
I just give a dismal groan and sunk my head in my hands, too
despondent to say nothing. The crew bust forth in curses against
Whithers, and sallied forth to search further for him, hauling the Old
Man along with them, still voicing his woes in a voice like a
steamboat whistle.
PRESENTLY I RIZ with a sigh and hauled on my duds. They was no
sound outside. Apparently I was alone in the building except for
Spike, my white bulldog. All at once I noticed him smelling of a
closed locker. He whined, scratched at it, and growled. With a sudden
suspicion I strode over and jerked open the door. Inside I seen a
huddled figger. I jerked it rudely forth and set it upright. It was
Jed Whithers. He was pale and shaking, and he had cobwebs in his hair.
He kind a cringed, evidently expecting me to bust into loud cusses.
For once I was too mad for that. I was probably as pale as he was, and
his eyes dilated like he seen murder in mine.
âJed Whithers,â I said, shoving him up against the wall with one
hand whilst I knotted the otherân into a mallet, âthis is one time in
my life when Iâm in the mood for killinâ.â
âFor Godâs sake, Dorgan,â he gurgled, âyou canât murder me!â
âCan you think of any reason why I shouldnât put you in a wheel-chair for the rest of your life?â I demanded. âYouâve rooint my
friends and all the fans which bet on me, lost my skipper his shipââ
âDonât hit me, Dorgan!â he begged, grabbing my wrist with shaking
fingers. âI had to do it; honest to God, Sailor, I had to do it! I
know you wonâwon by a mile. But it was the only thing I could do!â
âWhat you mean?â I demanded suspiciously.
âLemme sit down!â he gasped.
I reluctantly let go of him, and he slumped down onto a near-by
bench. He sat there and shook, and mopped the sweat offa his face. He
was trembling all over.
âAre the customers all gone?â he asked.
âAinât nobody here but me and my man-eatinâ bulldog,â I answered
grimly, standing over him. âGo onâspill what you got to say before I
start varnishinâ the floor with you.â
âI was forced to it, Sailor,â he said. âThereâs a man who has a
hold on me.â
âWhat you mean, a hold?â I asked suspiciously.
âI mean, heâs got me in a spot,â he said. âI have to do like he
says. It ainât myself I have to think ofâDorgan, Iâm goinâ to trust
you. You got the name of beinâ a square shooter. Iâm goinâ to tell you
the whole thing.
âSailor, I got a sister named Constance, a beautiful girl,
innocent as a newborn lamb. She trusted a man, Sailor, a dirty, slimy
snake in human form. He tricked her into signinâ a documentâDorgan,
that paper was a confession of a crime heâd committed himself!â
Whithers here broke down and sobbed with his face in his hands. I
shuffled my feet uncertainly, beginning to realize they was always
moreân one side to any question.
He raised up suddenly and said: âSince then, that manâs been
holdinâ that faked confession over me and her like a club. Heâs forced
me to do his filthy biddinâ time and again. Iâm a honest man by
nature, Sailor, but to protect my little sisterââhe kinda choked for
a instantââIâve stooped to low deeds. Like this tonight. This man was
bettinâ heavy on Leary, gettinâ big oddsââ
âSomebody sure was,â I muttered. âLots of Leary money in sight.â
âSure!â exclaimed Whithers eagerly. âThat was it; he made me throw
the fight to Leary, the dirty rat, to protect his bets.â
I begun to feel new wrath rise in my gigantic breast.
âYou mean this low-down polecat has been blackmailinâ you on
account of the hold heâs got over your sister?â I demanded.
âExactly,â he said, dropping his face in his hands. âWith that
paper he can send Constance to prison, if he takes the notion.â
âI never heered of such infermy,â I growled. âWhynât you bust him
on the jaw and take that confession away from him?â
âI ainât no fightinâ man,â said Whithers. âHeâs too big for me. I
wouldnât have a chance.â
âWell, I would,â I said. âListen, Whithers, buck up and quit
cryinâ. Iâm goinâ to help you.â
His head jerked up and he stared at me kinda wild-eyed.
âYou mean youâll help me get that paper?â
âYou bet!â I retorted. âI ainât the man to stand by and let no
innercent girl be persecuted. Besides, this mess tonight is his
fault.â
Whithers just set there for a second, and I thought I seen a slow
smile start to spread over his lips, but I mighta been mistook,
because he wasnât grinning when he held out his hand and said
tremulously: âDorgan, youâre all they say you are!â
A remark like that ainât necessarily a compliment; some of the
things said about me ainât flattering; but I took it in the spirit in
which it seemed to be give, and I said: âNow tell me, who is this
rat?â
He glanced nervously around, then whispered: âAce Bissett!â
I grunted in surprize. âThe devil you say! Iâd never of thought
it.â
âHeâs a fiend in human form,â said Whithers bitterly. âWhatâs your
plan?â
âWhy,â I said, âIâll go to his Diamond Palace and demand the
confession. If he donât give it to me, Iâll maul him and take it away
from him.â
âYouâll get shot up,â said Whithers. âBissett is a bad man to fool
with. Listen, I got a plan. If we can get him to a certain house I
know about, we can search him for the paper. He carries it around with
him, though I donât know just where. Hereâs my planââ
I listened attentively, and as a result, perhaps a hour later I
was heading through the narrer streets with Spike, driving a closed
car which Whithers had produced kinda mysteriously. Whithers wasnât
with me; he was gone to prepare the place where I was to bring Bissett
to.
I driv up the alley behind Aceâs big new saloon and gambling-hall,
the Diamond Palace, and stopped the car near a back door. It was a
very high-class joint. Bissett was friends with wealthy sportsmen,
officials, and other swells. He was what they call a soldier of
fortune, and heâd been everything, everywhereâaviator, explorer, big
game hunter, officer in
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