The Thubway Tham MEGAPACK ®. Johnston McCulley

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      Some men are born radio fans, some achieve radio fandom, and others have radio fanaticism thrust upon them. Thubway Tham, our young friend who gains sustenance and adventure by “lifting leathers” in the subway, belonged to the last class.

      Owning a radio receiving set was about as far from Thubway Tham’s thoughts as owning and operating a cattle ranch, until one evening when he was approached by Mr. “Nosey” Moore, the retired burglar who conducted the lodging house that Thubway Tham called home.

      Upon this particular evening, Mr. Nosey Moore accosted Tham in his room, lighted a cigarette, hummed and hawed for a few minutes, and then came to the point of his visit. It seems that a certain burglar of reputation, Peter Panns, had allowed himself to be captured by the police under circumstances that made a trip “up the river” and a “long stretch in stir” a possibility of the near future.

      But Peter Panns was of the sort that dies hard. So he had managed release on bail and was about to engage a noted criminal lawyer in an effort to escape incarceration. In New York City, as elsewhere, it may be mentioned, noted criminal lawyers do not labor for the love of it. Hence, Peter Panns was compelled to raise money, and lots of it.

      During the days of affluence, Peter Panns had leased and furnished, in an elaborate manner, a bachelor apartment. And now, in his hour of need, he realized all that he could upon the furnishings. All good crooks should rush to the aid of Peter Panns, said Nosey Moore. For instance, he had an excellent radio receiving set, and Tham should buy it.

      So Thubway Tham, out of the goodness of his heart, and being in funds at the moment, purchased the radio set and installed it in his room. The first evening he played with it a bit. The second, in an unguarded moment, the radio bug bit him and allowed him to get Pittsburgh, Philadelphia and Cleveland. Whereupon, Thubway Tham promptly became a rabid radio fan and counted that evening lost when he did not tune in on a couple of new stations.

      Tham had owned the set for a week, and the disease was in its height, when he happened to meet his ancient friend-enemy, Detective Craddock of headquarters, in Madison Square. Tham’s conversation for the first ten minutes caused Craddock to smile.

      “So you’ve got it, have you, old-timer?” the detective questioned. “You’ve got the radio bug. I won’t have to worry much about your operations for a few days, Tham. You’ll be turning the little dials and all that.”

      “Yeth?” Tham said in reply. “Don’t you own a radio thet?”

      “Certainly,” Craddock responded. “I got one over a year ago. I tune in now and then, but I’ll bet the dust is half an inch thick on the dials now. I was rabid myself, Tham, for a couple of months. It’s a tough disease.”

      “Tho it ith a ditheathe, ith it?” Tham said. “Radio ith a great thing, Craddock.”

      “I’m not disputing that fact.”

      “It ith a meanth of entertainment for the thhut-in. It bringth to your own room the betht entertainment in the world. Without takin’ off your thlipperth and puttin’ on your thhoeth and goin’ out, a man can thit right in hith own home and enjoy himthelf.”

      “What are you doing? Selling ’em?” Craddock asked.

      “No, thir! But you don’t want to make fun of a thing like that, Craddock. It may be the meanth of helpin’ you thometime when you leatht expect it. Look at how it helpth you thilly polithe! I tune in every night and hear the polithe alarmth.”

      “It’s a great thing!” Craddock admitted. “Only I’m fed up on it. Are you thinking of taking a little ride in the subway today, Tham?”

      “Pothibly,” Tham admitted, grinning.

      “If you do, I’ll wager that some irate citizen will be reporting that a dip has taken his wallet.”

      “It ith nothin’ in my young life what thome irate citithen reporth,” Tham replied. “If it wath not for foolith, irate citithenth makin’ thilly reporth, you dickth wouldn’t have anything to futh about.”

      “One of these days—” Craddock commenced.

      “Thtop it!” Thubway Tham implored. “That ith the thame old thong, and I’m fed up on that! One of thethe dayth you’ll catch me with the goodth and thend me up the river to do a long thtretch. Uh-huh! You have been tellin’ me that for thome little time now, Craddock. Wait till you do it! Craddock, ath a man I like you very much. I would go to the bat for you any time, Craddock. You are a dethent thort, and all that, and you’re my friend.”

      “Tham! You overwhelm me!” Craddock said, with some sarcasm in his voice and manner.

      “But ath a polithe offither, Craddock,” Thubway Tham continued, “you are leth than a two-thpot. In other wordth, Craddock, you ain’t in the deck at all!”

      With that parting shot, Thubway Tham grinned and continued his walk through Madison Square. “Craddock ith a good old thcout!” he informed himself. “But if he ever did get me with the goodth, he’d thertainly take me in jutht ath if he didn’t know me at all.”

      Being in funds, Thubway Tham did not have the inclination on this particular day to descend into the subway and “work.” He attended a matinee at a vaudeville house, ate his dinner, and went home. For a time he held speech with Nosey Moore, and then he went up rickety stairs to his room. He hung up his coat in the big closet that connected his room with an unoccupied one adjoining, put on a house jacket and slippers, filled and lighted a pipe, and sat down before the radio set.

      Even at that early hour there were plenty of stations “on the air.” Tham jumped from one to another, and finally stopped when he got the quality of music he desired. But he kept an eye on the little clock on his dresser; he wanted to be sure and “tune in” on a certain New York station at the proper moment and get the police alarms.

      Sitting back in the easy-chair, Tham puffed at his pipe and enjoyed music being broadcast from Pittsburgh. And the serenity of the moment was broken by a pounding upon the door.

      “Come in!” Tham commanded.

      Nosey Moore entered at once, and behind him was another man. Tham knew him by sight and reputation. He was “Snoopy” Sallon, a crook somewhat disliked by other crooks, a man to whom truthfulness and honor were unknown even when dealing with his own kind. Tham quickly shut off the radio.

      “Tham, we want help,” Moore said. “We’ve got to hide Snoopy until about midnight.”

      “What theemth to be the trouble?” Tham wanted to know.

      “The bulls are tryin’ to railroad me,” Snoopy Sallon declared. “They’ve been unable to pin a job on anybody and they’re pickin’ on me. They’ll frame me sure, Tham. If I can hide out until about one o’clock in the mornin’, a couple of friends of mine’ll meet me down on the corner and smuggle me to Jersey.”

      “What thort of a job?” Tham asked.

      “Loft robbery,” explained Snoopy Sallon. “I ain’t got any friends with dough, and I ain’t got dough of my own and can’t make a fight, and the bulls know it. They’ll railroad me for a stretch and go around braggin’ how they solved another case.”

      “Thnoopy, are you tellin’ me the truth?” Thubway Tham demanded. СКАЧАТЬ