All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

758 Tenth Avenue corner; she was coming toward us, evidently in a great hurry. Whether young or old, I could not tell; but my companion’s pace slack- ened, and he seemed to gage his steps so that we would meet her under a lamp-post. And we did. Campbell came to a full stop, and, of course, I with him. The woman almost collided with us. A foot away she raised her eyes from the ground with the light shining full upon her face. “ Greg—" she began and stopped, as if his look had choked off the rest of it. There was no hat upon her head. She was young-—under twenty-five a little gaudily but cheaply clothed, and her cheeks were marred by color put on with a too lavish hand. Evidently she hailed from southern I.urope, and her eyes were wonderful —very dark and afraid. She fumbled with her hands, and appeared to await anxiously the Gregarach’s observa- tions. “You were coming to see me?” Campbell asked quietly. “No, sinc? “Then you were going to confes- sion?” He turned his head to where, farther down the street, was the Church of Saint—l've forgotten the chap’s name. “No, sit.” “Then we'll take you home,’’ Camp- bell declared decisively. “ Where is Tony?” “T don’ know, sir,” the girl whim- pered, and sought the support of the lamp-post. “ ‘Two week I no’ see him.” “T think I can find him,” Campbell declared. “And when I do, I'll tell him you came to me and asked me to bring him back to you. How will that do?” I doubted if the girl understood every word, but she grasped the mean- ing of the lie better than I, judging by the frightened look that sprang into her eyes. She made no comment, but allowed Campbell to take her arm and lead her back the way she had come. THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. Of course, I felt out of it complete- ly; but with the check my strange friend had given me burning a hole in my pocket, and a million questions fighting each other for precedence on my tongue, I walked with them, specu- lating upon what was going to happen next. Campbell did not speak, nor the girl, nor J. When we reached the corner of Tenth Avenue one of the usual little groups lounging about a saloon-door said ‘“* Good evenin’, sir,” almost in unison, and the policeman, now moy- ing up the street, echoed it in a County Cork accent. I was not sure during the short walk whether I was standing on the rim of a volcano or walking with a king on parade. But it was apparent before we had gone two squares that in that section he who could claim the friend- ship of the Gregarach might walk in perfect safety. The girl ignored me completely as is I were a rank outsider; and when, after going a few squares, Campbell said, ** Wait, please,” and vanished into an entry, above which was an in- timation that one could play pool for two and a half cents per cue, I felt stupid, with a nasty sensation that I should say something to her, yet feared a snub for my pains. Before I could decide Campbell re- appeared with a little man like the boot- black at the hotel. Expecting a demonstration, yet ho- ping there wouldn't be one in such a public place, I was really disappointed in the dénouement. Campbell simply said: “Tony, your wife isn’t very well; so she came to me and asked me to tell you that she wanted you to come back to her. ‘Fake her home.” Tony looked from one to the other sheepishly. He was hardly as steady as he might have been, and when he took hold of his wife’s arm I thought she would be more likely to take him hoine. “ A’ri’, mister,” he mumbled thickly. comicloooks.com