All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

728 “Mark me, Didderington, I say he will! Not ten cents, either—no—not ten cents!” “ But — what the dickens—” I be- gan blankly, and he suddenly leaned forward and laid his hand on my arm. “You know where you stand?” he questioned hurriedly in a low tone, and his voice changed instantly. “I need not remind you of your condi- tion—and you are going to New York where a life can be bought for a meal? “You're a nuisance in, the eyes of some people, I know; but I can offer you my assistance, which better men than you have accepted before this, and, nae doot, will accept again. I am a man wha bothers little wi’ the law. The law is for them that need it to hide behind and evade their honest obligations. “Tf ye tak’ up wi’ me I can help ye and put ye back where your fathers were; but ye must be prepared for things ye never thought of, and to help me when your turn comes. I give nothing for nothing -—not even to a starving man. “When he is fed and able to stand and use his hand or his head, he must work and do my bidding. And Tl no’ turn any man’s toes doon the wrang road. “That's my proposal. I'll help. you if you'll help me, and if ye'd like to meet the man Rollins, be at my club next ‘Thursday ai ten in the morning.” He rose very suddenly, thrusting a card into my hand. “But, hang it all!’ I protested, gaping. : “Wheesht! “No’ a word o’ this to a soul. Men who bargain wi’ me don’t, as a rule, ask questions. I tell ‘them a’ I think they ought to ken— an’ nae mailr. “On this ship we don’t know each other — understand? Keep to your night-owl practises. That’s best for us all—at present. Gude nicht, Mr. Mason, I’ll be at the club next Thurs- day at 10 A.M. sharp.” He turned his huge frame about, THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. and in a moment more was swinging from my sight down the saloon com- . panion, leaving me to stare after him, wondering which of us was the great- er fool. Then, as several of the smoking- room /habitués came on deck, I real- ized that in my isolation I was ma- king myself conspicuous, and imme- diately descended to my cabin where, switching on the light, I glanced at the card Campbell had given me. It had a curious border of small red and black squares, and upon it was printed: FOR CHARITY CHAPTER III. THE YONKERS AFFAIR, BEFORE we reached New York I hanged Sysonsby quite frequently for discussing my affairs with strangers. But hanging him did not alter mat- ters a bit, and Campbell’s mysterious manner, his apparent knowledge of Rollins, his blind proposal, and_ the Scottish dialect he, as an American, so curiously affected, kept me constantly deciding and reversing my decision to accept his offer of assistance. The chap interested me. He was a new experience, and his claim that he could put me back “where my fathers had been,” though bombastic, was at least in keeping with my ideas. What he expected of me in return I could not fathom. I looked at the card he had given me a hundred times a day, and it was not easy to curb my curiosity upon the several matters that were then of im- portance, but though I went up on deck every evening, hopeful that he would renew our conversation, I learned no more of him on the Ran- dania. comlicloooks.com