All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

THE- HOUSE OF SOROQERY. -. it for a month like. One glance I gave at the man oppo- site with the eyes of a hawk. He was still apparently absorbed in the fres- coes around the ceiling. I would have to chance it with him. Evidently he was after the ring, too. But it ~was very apparent that he was not playing the game with the girl and Kronholtz’s emissary. So, placing the ring in my waistcoat-pocket, I started forward into the writing-room, walking a little irregularly, as a gentleman will who has imbibed somewhat freely. My eves were half shut; a vacuous smile adorned ny face. I thanked’my stars I was an actor. I approached the perturbed couple. who realized that the wrong man had obtained the much-sought ring. “Pardon me, madain,” I addressed the woman, with my hat in my hand. They both eyed me curiously, show- ing plainly their perturbation. “You dropped your handk’chiet by the door, an’ I picked it up. An’ you dropped—hic—a ring in m’ hand. Yes —dropped ring in m’ hand. Whatcher say—hic—'bout it, eh?” ‘Oh, sir, I just missed it,” she smiled up into my face winningly. And when she smiled any inebriated gentleman would have given her his bank-roll ; but I didn't happen to be drunk. “ You see, it must have fallen from my finger,” she continued. “It is rath- er large, and when I took the handker- chief from you it fell into your hand. Thank you ever so much for returning ise She held out her hand as if there was no question about my turning over the ornament. She was some actress herself. * Madam,” Iisaid, shaking my head, pained and grieved, “I am— hic— under influ’nce lquor—sligh'ly, very sligh’ly. But I'm min’ster’s son, I am. An’ it pains—hic—me very much t’ have beau’ful young lady fib t’ me— hic—tlike that. “Oh, yes an inspiration, if you —got you fibbed t’ me—yesy’- 871 did,” I contended, shaking my finger at her reprovingly in answer to the in- dignant expression that shot from her eyes. They ‘vere wonderful eyes in- deed—smoldering fires burning beneath them, which seemed to change their col- or and expression with every emotion of their owner. “Lis’en here,” I admonished, sha- king my head solemnly. ‘* Somethin’s wrong — hic — very wrong — ‘cause I saw this gemman speak t’ you like a stranger, an’ you b-both looked—hic— over at me. “You dropped that ring on p-purpose -——oh, yes, y’ did. You mistook me f’r him. He has beau’ful red carnashun— hic—an’ [ have beau'ful red carnashun. I may be drunk—hic—sligh’ly under infiu'nce, y’ know—but I’m wise—hic —betcherlife I’m wise! ” I smiled fatuously into her eyes, again shaking a reproving finger. “Sir!” she exclaimed, simulating splendidly righteous indignation. “That is my husband's ring, and I démand that you return it. or I shall have an officer summoned.” “Oh, no, y’ won’t—no y’ won't. You're in bad—y’ know y’r in bad— hic—an’ I know, too,’ I argued with the unreasoning stubbornness which liquor produces. “Tell yer what,” I continued, “if you'll send this—hic—gemman for y’r husban’, an’ he can ‘dentify ring, well’n good. If not—hic—well’n good, also.” I waved my hand as if fate itself had decreed. Standing a few steps in back of the woman was the man with the search- light eyes, staring absorbedly up at the frescoes round the ceiling. But I no- ticed his ears—enormous lobes which seemed to be glued flat against the sides of his head—and I knew that they heard every word I uttered. I purposely spoke loud enough for him to hear, for I would have to deal with him sooner or later, and I would give him something to guess about in the interim. I had already acquired an enormous respect for him. There was comicloooks.com