The Avenger 4 - The Devil’s Horns by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online Page B

Josh. “My, Ah’s had a time findin’ yo’. Yo’ got money comin’ to you.”
    “Huh?” exclaimed Judge Broadbough’s servant.
    “Yash, suh! On account it’s a leg’cy lef’ by mah Uncle Remus, in Cario, Illinois. Yo’ mammy’s brothah. He lef home when he was twelve years old. Run away. Ah expect yo’ nevah even heah tell of him.”
    “No,” said Tosephus Rill. “I nevah did.”
    But his tone was thoughtful, noncommittal. And he stared at Josh out of hard, speculative eyes. He wiggled his fingers in mustard-yellow gloves.
    “How much would this leg’cy be?” he inquired.
    “Two hunde’d and eighty-three dollahs,” said Josh, in a tone of reverence.
    Tosephus stood a long time, staring at Josh’s bland and innocent-looking face.
    “Ah suppose Ah has got to write in—” he began.
    “No, suh, cousin. Ah’s got de money with me. Ah hands it ovah when yo’-all proves yo’ is Tosephus Rill. Ah’s satisfied, but de law wants to see papuhs and things.”
    “Ah got a drivuh’s license on a car Ah had last yeah,” said Rill, staring into Josh’s sleepy-looking eyes, “An’ maybe some othah things.”
    “That ought to do it,” said Josh. “Ah’s got de money in mah room, two blocks f’um heah. You come with me and show me the papuhs, an’ Ah digs de money outta mah trunk.”
    Tosephus Rill went with Josh. He had nothing to lose, he figured. He hadn’t but a few dollars with him if this were a holdup. And if it were a queer mistake that would net him two hundred and eighty-three dollars, so much to the good.
    But he knew there was no legacy involved the moment Josh shut the door of his room on the two of them. The room, rented three hours, ago in a quiet, shabby boarding-house, was bare of all personal possessions. Josh had wanted it only for these few minutes.
    “Say!” Tosephus Rill exclaimed, looking in vain for a trunk or anything else in which money might be contained.
    He didn’t say anything more, for suddenly death was at his throat.
    Josh Newton, colored philosopher and educated gentleman, was an expert marksman and a fine boxer. But when he was in character, he used the weapon best suited to his role.
    He held the menacing edge of a razor to Tosephus Rill’s throat, now, with his left arm around the light-tan boy’s body from behind.
    “Jus’ stay still and easy,” Josh advised, with sudden iron in his amiable voice.
    “If it’s money yo’re after,” Tosephus gasped.
    “It ain’t money,” said Josh.
    “Then what—”
    Sweat was popping out on Rill’s pomaded head. It made the scent stronger.
    Josh had his line all picked for him. He’d known what to do the moment he set eyes on Tosephus. The natty, sartorial elegance, the scented hair, the smirk on the light-tan face, had told him. This was a lady’s man.
    “I got yo’ here to kill yo’,” Josh said ferociously.
    “Lissen heah, boy! I ain’t done nothin’ to yo’.”
    “Yo’ has to mah wife,” said Josh, pressing a little with the razor. “Yo’ been runnin’ around with her.”
    “I swear to goo’ness—”
    “Yo’ deny it?”
    There had been girls in Rill’s various past. That was apparent in his appalled eyes. No telling which one had set this grim black figure of vengeance on his trail. He stabbed blindly.
    “She didn’ say she was married.”
    “Makes no diff’runce,” said Josh, pressing tighter with the razor.
    Tosephus could see his head coming clear off his shoulders.
    “I’ll give you money!” he whined. “I’ll do anything yo’ say!” He groveled. “I’se sorry—”
    “Bein’ sorry’s too late now.”
    “Please! Don’t!”
    “Say yo’ prayers!”
    “I’ll nevah see her no more. I’ll git out of town! I’ll— Lift that razuh, boy!”
    Josh seemed to consider.
    “I s’pose it’s dangerous killin’ even yo’,” he said thoughtfully. “But yo’ ain’t goin’ to git off scot-free.”
    “Whatevah yo’ say—” panted Tosephus, face the color of dirty