Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

Tio vulgar as trade at Drount’s; they consulted, gave commissions, had designs executed. A few antiques were under a large case, each piece with an area of satin around it. A few miniatures were under another case, with the first Mrs. Rothchild, hair parted triangularly and violet eyes, soft as a nun’s modestly upraised, placed remote and aloof. This was one of Drount’s friends, so the young man talked with effort to be enter- taining: . “_ this ring, early Etruscan. Really is, as you can see by the beading.” He lifted it from the case to Middleton’s hand. Middleton examined it idly and gave it back, nodding ambiguously. The young man jumped to another sub- ject. Perhaps miniatures would be of in- terest. Middleton was polite but a little preoc- cupied, The young man spoke of the crime wave and Middleton glanced interestedly. “__ getting to be appalling, really is. Robberies, burglaries, hold-ups.’’ “Flow do you account for it?” The young man rambled for a minute with an impromptu conjectural theory, then mentioned the increasing daring of the robbers. “__Rawlinson’s last night. A dinner party—you saw the papers of course. A dinner party, a dozen people at dinner. The two bandits came right in to the din- ing-room. Awfully daring thing. They must have worked quick to run the ser- vants into a closet and get into the dining- room before the guests were suspicious. They made an enormous haul. You know, sometimes I think if men have that much .. nerve—why, they’re entitled to what they can get.” “Do you?” Middleton asked indiffer- ently, eying the slender, stiffly tailored and starched young fellow appraisingly. “Yes, sit;-ido, * “Every crook in the city agrees with you,” said Middleton, and turned-away to pretend to examine a collar of platinum and diamonds enthroned regally in a case with a few elongated lace pins stationed at a distance like pages in waiting. The young clerk blushed slightly and /felt a moment’s hot anger at something so nearly like an insult. Here was this fellow, a friend of Drount’s, rich and idle, with no Adventure problems, no worries, nothing to trouble him. It was unfair. Drount came from his office: with a stately old dowager, her shoulders burdened with bushy furs. sighted, and her skin had the drawn parch- ment appearance that sometimes comes when the face has been operated on for the re- moval of wrinkles. She peered with almost conscious rude- ness at Middleton, then passed on. When she was gone Drount took Middle- ton’s arm affectionately and led him to the office. “a, cold-blooded old- chieftainess. A ha-ha! She only wants me, Drount, to keep her in jewelry for the good it will do in building up my clientéle- Looking after my interests, she is. That’s not why I gave in. No-no.” “Vou did give in?” “My boy, can’t you hear her saying as she fingers some friend’s lavalliére: “So Drount imitated my necklace for you, did he? Why it does look exactly like mine. I never cared for it—gave it to the maid. Maybe she sold it back to him.’ “Oh, my boy, I know them. I know ’em. And you can’t get away from them any more than you can get away from land- lords. Not if you are in business. I admit that she. was more direct than most—usu- ally there is the little fiction of a charge ac- count on the books. “And there isn’t a really exclusive shop in town that doesn’t pay tribute of some kind—in some way—to somebody—and that body is a woman, every time. Every time, m’boy., Bless their dear hearts, they just can’t help being greedy little grafters. “But even an old chieftainess like that has—no, not charm exactly—but anyway she can make you feel gallant while you are putting your neck under her heel. I feel very gallant now.” He swelled his chest and patted it in amused self-mockery. Middleton sat patiently, hat in hand, his cane between his knees, listening with no apparent interest but some politeness. “Tf it weren’t—” Drount rolléd his eyes in jest—‘‘for their dear little tricks, what a dull old world this would be!” “Yes,” Middeton agreed with an oddly significant intonation. Then Drount clapped his hands together She was slightly near- | and rubbed them. He hitched a chair a ~ COMMICLOOokKs (C@