THE GARROTE
(Annals of The Bend)
Tell youse somethin' about d' worser side of d' Bend!” retorted Chucky. His manner was resentful. I had put my question in a fashion half apologetic and as one who might be surprised at anything bad in the Bend. It was this lamblike method of being curious that Chucky didn't applaud. Evidently he gloried a bit in the criminal vigour of certain phases of a Bend existence.
“Mebby you t'inks there is no worser side to d' Bend! Mebby you takes d' Bend for a hotbed of innocence! Don't string no stuff on d' milky character of d' Bend. Youse would lose it one, two, t'ree, keno! see! There's dead loads of t'ings about d' Bend what's so tough it 'ud make youse sore on yourself to get onto 'em.
“Be d' way! while youse is chinnin' concernin' d' hard lines of d' Bend, I'm put in mind about Danny d' Face, who shows up from Sing Sing to-day. Say! d' Face wasn't doin' a t'ing but put up a roar all d' morn-in', till a cop shows up an' lays it out cold if d' Face don't cork, he'll pinch him.
“What was d' squeal about? Why! it's like this,” continued Chucky, settling himself where the barkeeper might know when his glass was empty. “It's all about d' Face's Bundle. When d' victim takes his little ten spaces, his Bundle mourns 'round for a brace of mont's, see! An' then she marries another guy.
“What else could youse look for? That's what I say; what could d' Face expect? Ten spaces ain't like a stretch, it's 'life,' see! D' mug who chases in an' takes a trip for ten, he's a lifer. An' you knows as well as me, even if youse ain't done time, that when a duck gets life, it's d' same as a divorce. That's dead straight! his Bundle is free to get married ag'in.
“An' that's just what d' Face's Rag does; she hooks up wit' another skate, after d' Face has had his stripes for a couple of mont's. She's no tree-toad to live on air an' scenery, so she gets hitched. I was right there, pipin' off d' play meself, when d' w'ite choker ties 'em. It was a good weddin', wit' a dandy lot of lush; d' can was passin' all d' time, an' so d' mem'ry of it is wit' me still.
“As I says, d' Face comes weavin' in this mornin', an' tries to break up what d' poipers call 'existin' conditions.' It don't go, though; d' cop cuts in on d' play an' makes it a cinch case of nit, see!