The Thubway Tham Megapack

by Johnston McCulley

  Tham was tired, and he went immediately to bed. He slept well, and in the morning he descended the stairs filled with the determination to make this day pay.

  Up the street he hurried to the restaurant, ordered his usual breakfast, ate it and paid for it, and then went out upon the street. Detective Craddock was waiting for him.

  “Good morning, Tham,” he said.

  “Good mornin’ yourthelf,” Tham retorted surlily. “Are you goin’ to pethter me again today?”

  “I’m going to trail right along behind you,” Craddock said. “I like your company, Tham.”

  “That ith more than I can thay for yourth,” Tham said. “Jutht follow me around, if it amutheth you. Don’t you ever work?”

  “I’m working now, old-timer,” Craddock answered. “I’m working to save the hard-working gents of the city from having their wallets plucked,”

  “Tho?”

  “So!” said Craddock. “Exactly, in other words. Lead ahead, Tham, and I’ll follow.”

  Tham, his face purple with rage, walked up the street. Now he went leisurely, and now he quickened his pace. He dodged into the midst of a throng, and then he turned into a side street. But always Detective Craddock followed at his heels, and always Detective Craddock had a grin on his face.

  Tham’s rage increased. Evening came again, and he had lifted no leather. He returned to the lodging house of Nosey Moore a bitter man. In a corner of the office he confided his miseries to the landlord.

  “Thith ath of a Craddock followth me all day,” he said glumly. “And how am I to live if he keepth that up? I pay out thubway fare and I pay for mealth. That two dollarth the doc left of my money ith gone all except ten thenth.”

  “I’ll lend you some coin,” Moore offered. “You stick close to the house for a week or ten days, and Craddock will get tired watching for you. That’s the game.”

  “It ith not the game,” Tham declared. “Craddock won’t make me do that. It would tickle the thimp to death. Tomorrow I’ll fool him. You’ll thee!”

  Thubway Tham remembered that promise when he awoke the following morning. He borrowed a couple of dollars from Moore and hurried to the restaurant. After he had eaten, he went out upon the street and found Craddock waiting for him.

  Tham saw red then. Rage almost consumed him. He turned his back on the detective and hurried up the street, Things had gone too far, Tham told himself.

  Into the subway he plunged, Craddock at his heels. For the first time in his life Tham felt a deep hatred of the detective. Heretofore the duel of wits between them had made them respect each other. Tham even had had a sneaking liking for the officer. But all that now passed away.

  No longer did he see in Detective Craddock an officer of the law trying to do his duty. He saw him merely as a man standing in the way of a living. To Thubway Tham, Craddock was an obstacle to a well-filled purse.

  An express roared into the station, and Thubway Tham boarded it and began his third day of attempting to dodge Craddock. He tried every trick he could imagine, and Craddock could not be dodged. And always Thubway Tham saw the officer’s sarcastic grin.

  Up in the Times Square district, Tham mingled with the matinee crowds, but Craddock remained at his heels. He entered buildings and dodged through them, to emerge on another street, but Craddock always picked up the trail again.

  Tham was frantic now. He refused to admit to himself that Detective Craddock was mastering him. He would conquer Craddock, he told himself. He had not been showing enough courage! The season in the hospital had made a craven of him!

  That was what he needed—a greater show of courage! Had he not lifted leathers before now with Craddock within a few feet of him? And could he not do it again?

  New determination came to him. He attempted to dodge Craddock no longer. He was going to resort to bravery and his skill as a professional pickpocket.

  Back into the subway he went, and caught an express for downtown, Craddock was at his heels when Tham entered the train, but Tham gave him not the slightest attention apparently.

  Tham yawned, pretended to be bored, and glanced around the car. His eyes almost bulged. Three feet to one side was a prospective victim. He was a large, man with a florid face, a man dressed in rather “sporty” clothes. His coattail flew back for an instant as he made his way past another man—and Thubway Tham saw a wallet in a hip pocket!

  To make it better, standing beside this prospective victim there was another. Thubway Tham pretended to center his attention on this other, and hoped that Detective Craddock would notice it. He made his way forward until he stood behind the two men. He glanced at the man he did not intend to rob, tried to convey the impression to Craddock that that man was to be relieved of a leather.

  At the same time Tham brushed against the man who wore the “sporty” suit of clothes. He could feel the wallet, feel that it was a fat one. Tham hoped that it was well filled with currency, and that the haul would be a rich one, so he could rest for a time until Detective Craddock grew tired of watching him.

  The express roared into a station and stopped. Now was the time for Tham to act. His hand made a quick move, and the wallet was in his possession. At the same time he pretended to lurch against the other man, looked up, and found Craddock’s eyes upon him, and pretended to stop his work.

  The doors flew open, and Tham stepped out. Craddock followed at his heels. But Craddock was not grinning now.

  “I’ve got you, Tham!” he said. “Tried to be clever, but couldn’t make a go of it! Hand over that wallet, and come with me!”

  Thubway Tham felt his heart stop beating for an instant. He was “caught with the goods!” Craddock had triumphed. Ahead of him was a long term in prison, days and nights of agony.

  Thubway Tham gasped, and then turned to flee. Right and left he knocked people trying to catch the train. Through the crowd he darted, the detective after him.

  Up the steps he went to the street. But he was still weak and could not run fast, and could not shake off Craddock. And now he heard the detective’s voice behind him:

  “Stop, or I’ll fire!”

  Thubway Tham gasped, and stopped. Craddock, revolver in hand, ran up to him and grasped Him by the arm.

  “Got you after all!” Craddock panted. “You’ll get fifteen years for this, old-timer!”

  Red flamed before Thubway Tham’s eyes again. Fifteen years would mean death, he thought. He could not endure it!

  He gave a cry and seized the hand that held the revolver. Instantly he and Craddock were struggling for possession of the weapon. Back and forth across the walk they fought, while a crowd gathered and other officers came running.

  Tham fought like a madman. He wrenched the weapon from Craddock’s grasp. There was a sharp report, a flash of flame, a puff of smoke. Through the smoke Thubway Tham saw Detective Craddock clutch at his breast, then crash to the pavement.

  At the same instant violent hands were put upon him, and he found himself in the clutches of two uniformed policemen.

  IV.

  And then the reaction and the agony of it!

  He found himself in a cell, knew that a charge of murder had been placed against him. Detective Craddock was dead. The bullet had found his heart.

  Tham could not explain to himself how it had happened. He was not sure whether he had pulled the trigger in his rage at Craddock or whether it had been an accident. But that made no difference now. He had killed an officer of the law while resisting arrest.

  His brain seemed to be numb. The preliminary hearing was like a nightmare. And then came the long wait for the real trial. Thubway Tham found now that he had no influential friends. He had no money to engage a famous criminal “mouthpiece.” The court assigned a young attorney to defend him, and in him Tham had small confidence.

  He knew that the defense would be merely a matter of form at that. The evidence was conclusive. Scores of persons had witnessed his flight up the subway steps with Detective Craddock in close pursuit. They
had seen him stop, turn, fight to get the revolver Craddock had drawn. They had seen the shot, had seen Craddock fall.

  The trial came, and it seemed to Tham that he was a spectator at the trial of another man. The jury was picked quickly, and the evidence placed before it. Tham had no defense to make, except to say that he had not intended firing the shot. And that statement did not help him with the jury, he knew.

  There was no long wait for the verdict. Tham; standing up and looking upon the jury, heard the fatal words. He watched as though in a trance while the judge pronounced sentence. Tham was doomed. He was to go to the electric chair!

  And now there came the removal to the prison, when Thubway Tham, a shell of his former self, was guarded as though he had been a wild beast. And there a tiny cell, and the death watch before the door!

  It seemed to Tham that he scarcely was alive. He seemed to be unable to force himself to realize what had happened, what was going to happen soon. The days and nights passed in a dull routine. He stared at the guard as though he had been a curiosity. He ate little, slept little, talked little.

  There were no relatives to come and say farewell to him. He knew that the time was near, but even that did not give him a feeling of horror. His senses seemed to be dead.

  And then they came into his cell, and dressed him properly and told him that the time had come. He took his place in the little procession as though he had been another man. Down a narrow corridor he was marched. There before him he saw a little green door—through which he was to pass but once!

  The door was opened, those in front of him stepped inside, somebody took him by an arm and guided him forward. He raised his head, and saw the official witnesses sitting in their places. He looked in the other direction—and saw the deadly chair!

  Then life seemed to come to him.

  Horror smote him. He cried out, started to struggle. He tried to fight those near him, tried to wrench his arms free.

  “No, no!” he screamed. “I didn’t mean to shoot! Don’t kill me! I didn’t mean it—didn’t mean to shoot—”

  A hand grasped his shoulder. He felt himself gently shaken. A soft voice purred in his ear.

  “Take it easy, old man!” the voice said. “Having a bad dream, were you? The ether does that sometimes.”

  Tham opened his eyes. The surgeon was before him, and a nurse stood just behind. She was smiling.

  “You’ll be all right soon,” the surgeon was saying. “We’ve got your old appendix out. Take it easy now. A bit sick?”

  And then full realization came to Thubway Tham, and he sighed his relief despite the nausea the ether had caused. It was only a bad dream caused by the anesthetic!

  And as he turned his face to the wall he promised himself one thing—never would he attempt to lift a leather from a florid-faced man who wore a “sporty” suit of clothes!

  THUBWAY THAM’S CURIOSITY

  Unobtrusively, and as inconspicuously as possible you may be sure, Thubway Tham left the busy street and descended the crowded stairs into the subway at Times Square.

  Hugging the wall, Thubway Tham slipped along it quietly, as though begging the pardon of his fellow men for cumbering the fair earth with his unworthy presence. Thubway Tham possessed to a superior degree the faculty of effacing himself when he wished to do so—a faculty worth more than its weight in gold or precious gems to a professional dip.

  It was the rush hour in the subway. The platform, when Thubway Tham finally reached it, was thronged and crowded and jammed with human beings who appeared to be running around in circles, each intent upon getting to some mysterious destination in record-breaking time and with the least possible delay.

  Thubway Tham crowded close to the edge of the platform and there waited for a downtown express. He wore an old gray suit and a cap to match, and the latter was pulled down well over his eyes, pulled down to just the point where Thubway Tham could peer beneath the visor and take stock of his immediate neighbors. In appearance, Thubway Tham was a poor, downtrodden, tired employee of some fourth-rate mercantile establishment, and would pass for such in a crowd.

  Owing to the inordinate and unusual activity of the metropolitan police department, Thubway Tham had conducted himself as an honest and law-abiding citizen for more than a week. He had not attempted to lift a leather in all that time, and for the greater part had been content to roam around the city’s streets and enjoy the ever-changing sights.

  Some seventh sense always seemed to inform Thubway Tham when it would be perilous for him to follow his nefarious profession and when the chances for success were excellent. Thubway Tham, it was well known to his friends and acquaintances, always “played a hunch” and never disregarded one.

  The express roared into the station, and Thubway Tham was the first person to enter one of the cars, which already was crowded with humanity. He took up a position in the aisle not far from one of the doors.

  He glanced around quickly and alertly, but in such a manner that others would not observe his close scrutiny of his fellow passengers. There were two reasons for this—Tham wanted to make sure that no officer of the law stood near him, and he was looking for a possible victim.

  Satisfied that no detective or plain-clothes man was in his immediate vicinity, Tham searched for the victim and located one almost at once. Some six feet from him stood a medium-sized gentleman of rather prosperous appearance. He gave one the impression of being bored and disgusted because compelled to ride in the jam of common humanity. He was rather dignified, Thubway Tham thought. He was the sort of man who carries a fat wallet.

  Thubway Tham, by no means a poor judge of the common run of human beings, told himself that the man was bound for the financial district, which meant that Tham would not have to be in too great a hurry to plan and execute his work. He began edging toward his prospective victim, a foot at a time, in such a manner that he attracted no attention from the other passengers who happened to be near him.

  After a time Tham found himself in a position a foot to the rear and a little to the right of his man. He began watching the other closely without seeming to do so. The train rounded a curve and Thubway Tham lurched lightly against the other man—and felt a wave of disappointment. He had hoped that the other carried a fat wallet in a hip pocket, but that one slight touch had convinced Thubway Tham that such was not the case.

  But now Tham observed something that delighted him. His prospective victim, his mind presumably on something far away, was disclosing an interesting fact through movements that were purely mechanical. His right hand strayed up slowly and pressed against his side.

  Thubway Tham knew what that meant. This man carried something of value in the inside pocket of his coat. His subconscious mind was dwelling upon protection for this article. Without thinking, without realizing what he was doing, he was betraying the fact that he carried valuables. Thubway Tham almost grinned. Getting a wallet from an inside coat pocket was not so easy as getting it from a hip pocket, yet it could be done. He edged a bit closer and decided that he would wait until the train dashed into a busy station, and do the deed in the confusion as the door was opened and men and women attempted to rush in and out of the car.

  “Bondth, probably!” Thubway Tham told himself. “If tho, I thertainly hope that they are negothiable bondth. Or maybe it happenth to be jewelth—poththibly thmuggled jewelth! My goodnethth! Or it may be jutht a wad of currenthy!”

  Thubway Tham rather hoped that it was the latter. Currency was not difficult to handle, unless the bills were very large. A man had only to throw away the “leather” as quickly as possible, and he would be safe. It is a difficult job to identify currency unless it is very new, of large denominations, or the number of the bills have been listed.

  He did not like jewels and bonds, but he had no intention of refusing them, of course, if they happened to come his way. He was in need of funds, too. Not only had he refrained from business activities for more than a week, but also he clung, despite many disasters, t
o the belief that he could play draw poker, and there were certain acquaintances of his who loved to demonstrate to him, upon every possible occasion, that he could not!

  The train approached a station, but Tham knew that the crowd on the platform would not be large there, and he decided to wait for a more crowded station farther down the line. The train stopped, the doors crashed open, three or four persons entered the car, and a couple left.

  One of those who entered was a middle-aged man who seemed to radiate prosperity. He caught sight of Tham’s prospective victim, grinned, and thrust his way to the man’s side.

  “Hello, Joe!” he said.

  “Why, hello, Tom,” the prospective victim replied.

  “Glad I happened to stumble across you, Joe. Feeling a bit nervous?”

  “I certainty am,” Joe replied.

  “Big responsibility, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Joe.

  “I—er—suppose you’ve got it right along with you now?”

  “Yes, I have,” Joe answered.

  “Make you shake and shiver a bit?”

  “All of that!”

  Thubway Tham almost forgot himself and gasped. According to that conversation the man called Joe had something of great value in that inside pocket, Thubway Tham’s curiosity was aroused. Bonds, or jewels, or both, possibly. A great haul, undoubtedly! He intended to get what was inside that pocket, but he appreciated the fact that he would have to be very careful about it. Joe’s friend, Tom, was there now and on guard, in a manner of speaking. Thubway Tham had to watch and deal with two men instead of only one.

  But at the next station Tom left the car, and Thubway Tham exulted. Now, at the very next stop of the train, he would do his work. He edged yet a bit closer to his man and once more glanced around furtively to see that nobody was observing him. The train was rapidly approaching the station.