The Life of the PartyCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
General
The Life of the Party
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
Costume -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Lawyers -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
His right hand maintained the sinister pressure of the weapon against
the victim's deflated chest, while his left dexterously explored the
side pockets of Mr. Leary's overcoat. Then the same left hand jerked the
frogged fastenings of the garment asunder and went pawing swiftly over
Mr. Leary's quivering person, seeking the pockets which would have been
there had Mr. Leary been wearing garments bearing the regulation and
ordained number of pockets. But the exploring fingers merely slid along
a smooth and unbroken frontal surface.
"Wot t'ell? Wot t'ell?" muttered the footpad in bewilderment. "Say,
where're you got yore leather and yore kittle hid? Speak up quick!"
"I'm--I'm--not carrying a watch or a purse to-night," quavered Mr.
Leary. "These--these clothes I happen to be wearing are not made with
places in them for a watch or anything. And you've already taken what
money I had--it was all in my overcoat pocket."
"Yep; a pinch of chicken feed and wot felt like about four one-bone
bills." The highwayman's accent was both ominous and contemptuous. "Say,
wotcher mean drillin' round dis town in some kinder funny riggin'
wit'out no plunder on you? I gotta right to belt you one acrost the
bean."
"I'd rather you didn't do that," protested Mr. Leary in all seriousness.
"If--if you'd only give me your address I could send you some money in
the morning to pay you for your trouble----"
"Cut out de kiddin'," broke in the disgusted marauder. His tone changed
slightly for the better. "Say, near as I kin tell by feelin' it, dat
ain't such a bum benny you're sportin'. I'll jest take dat along wit'
me. Letcher arms down easy and hold 'em straight out from yore sides
while I gits it offen you. And no funny business!"
"Oh, please, please, don't take my overcoat," implored Mr. Leary,
plunged by these words into a deeper panic. "Anything but that!
I--you--you really mustn't leave me without my overcoat."
"Wot else is dere to take?"
Even as he uttered the scornful question the thief had wrested the
garment from Mr. Leary's helpless form and was backing away into the
darkness.
Out of impenetrable gloom came his farewell warning: "Stay right where
you are for fi' minutes wit'out movin' or makin' a yelp. If you wiggle
before de time is up I gotta pal right yere watchin' you, and he'll sure
plug you. He ain't no easy-goin' guy like wot I am. You're gittin' off
lucky it's me stuck you up, stidder him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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