Marion Marlowe in St. Paul, or, The Company's Mascot in a Double Deal — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

them myself,’ was Tupham’s reply, which Was accompanied with a conceited smirk. “Tm usually in favor when I care to be, and you can mark my words, I'll win this girl in short order! A face like that is, to say the least, novel.”’ “And Ill bet I win her,” was the quiet answer of the man called “Dan,” as he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and began counting them over. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and the . street was crowded, but, in spite of that fact, the two men stopped short on the sidewalk and the older one also pulled a roll from his pocket. “Let’s see—she gets here to-morrow, you say,” Tupham began, thoughtfully; “well, here’s a fifty that says [ win her. Mark my words, Dan—she dines with me after the second performance. That’s giving her one night to think over my invitation, and the third night—well, it doesn’t usually take longer than that! The third night | shall have won the wager, Hobart—and the girl.” “Hold on, Tupham,” broke in the younger man, abruptly; “here comes ‘Jackets,’ the newsboy ; let him act as stakeholder. There isn’t a man in town that I’d trust as quick as tT would ‘Jackets,’ yourself included, Mr. Archibald Tupham.” “That’s all right, Dan! I can return the compliment,”’ was the indifferent answer, and then the men both whistled to a newsboy who had stopped and was idly kicking his. heels against a lamp-post on the corner. A dozen people turned and stared at what happened next, but they were none of them near enough to overhear the conversation. Mr. Archibald Tupham repeated his bet to the boy, and then the younger man added his own expectations. “Tl be me that she'll dine that night,’ he said, dryly; ‘‘and the third night also, so keep your eye on the actress, Jackets, and don’t lose the money.” The boy grinned with delight as two fifty- dollar bills were handed to him, and his little eyes snapped like a wide-awake fox terrier’s. “The two bills disappeared somewhere with- rags of his diminutive trousers, and whistling, as if with in the the newsboy strolled away, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. MY QUEEN, “Wonderful kid, that,” remarked the elder man, at the same time giving his companion a keen glance out of the corner of his cold, eray eyes. “Ever hear his history, Dan? thing quite romantic.” Dan Hobart, a man about town, as he was best known in St. Paul, merely shook his head at his companion’s question. ‘His mother was an actress—and a pretty one, too. I’ve forgotten her name, but, then, I don’t suppose you’d remember her. She died when the kid was born, somewhere in the slums of Minneapolis.” ™ uv “There’s nothing spécially romantic about that, so far as I can see,” remarked Dan Ho- bart, as he drew a Havana from his pocket. There was another keen glance, and Tup- ham went on: . “The ‘romance lies in the fact that the boy had a father,” he said, smilingly—‘a very rich man, they say, who fell in love with her. Of course, he deserted. her, and she died of a broken heart. That's where the romance usually comes if, I believe,” he finished, coarsely. “It’s where it usually ends,” was Hobart’s reply. ‘‘No, strange as it may seem, I never heard the yarn, but then, you know, [ come from Chicago; only been in St. Paul a couple of years, but I know, the kid well—he is my most loyal subject!” “Oh, I see! He’s one of the Secret Or- der 2?” said Tupham, smiling. “Well, I might have known that when you suggested trust- ing him with the money.” Dan Hobart lowered his voice so that pass- ersby could not hear him. “He's the slickest article in the whole push,” he said, with a cunning look creeping into his tace. “Why, out of the fifty crooks that 1 own, soul and body, that kid is the brightest, the quickest, and the most successful! He’s worth his weight in gold any day in the week! The funny thing about him is that he hasn’t an atom of conscience; but perhaps he inherits that trait from his father.” It was Hobart's turn to glance out of the corner of his eye now, but his friend was also lighting a cigar, so he did not observe it. “T did hear something about his mother once,” Hobart went on, stil : watching. his It's some- b