CRIME
Crime-of-the-Week
The sun never shines in Allen Street. The people there, denizens of Manhattan's lower East Side, go about in a latticework of shadows cast by the superstructure of the elevated railway, a vast and gloomy pergola rising to meet the rungs of blackened fire escapes which hang from the buildings like the foliage of a fantastic iron jungle. No. 63 Allen Street, near the corner of Grand, is a large green-painted wooden door with a rusty lock and bar. Above some ash cans floats a white hand in eerie benediction. Beneath...
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