All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

A THIEVES’ COMEDY. I looked toward Campbell again, and found him smiling; and, obeying a slight movement of his head, tiptoed after him into the hall and to the liy- ing-room. > Welle” The monosyllable needed no expla- nation. I pulled the check from my pocket. “All right—but just for fun, you know. You can tear that up and make out a new one—for the Gobbler.” He took the check, folded it care- fully, and slipped it into one of the pockets of that hideous waistcoat of his. “ You must be of the fifth genera- tion,” he said with a whimsical smile, and held out his hand. My fingers tingled with the pressure of his. CHAPTER XV. LOSING NO TIME. Currousty enough, I slept soundly that night. For a little while I turned things over in my mind, wondering where I would land; and then I started up in response to the appearance of a red light in the signal-lamp beside the Clachan’s barroom door—and almost fell out of bed. But now that I can view the matter sanely, I marvel at how little it affected me at the time. The element of adven- ture appealed to me; and I think one’s mind can adapt itself quite cheerfully to almost any condition of affairs. But I shrank from lunching with Rollins at his club the following day, and when he offered his hand I could have struck him. Yet I took it, remembering where we were and my promise. His fingers were like ice, and I thought his eyes were even more shifty than usual. When he talked I expect- ed him at any moment to declare him- self, but he didn’t just then. I began to notice little things that 765 had escaped my attention before, and not one of them made me like him any better. He bullied the waiter in a sneaking sort of way, and smirked and squinted out of the corners of his eyes at the people round about. His conversation driveled and ar- rived nowhere. It bored me insuffer- ably, so that I prayed he would find an evening suitable for my “ demise” very soon. Once or twice I almost suggested one. It was a considerable relief to get away from him for the afternoon; but when I reached my hotel more trouble awaited me in the form of a small package accompanied by a note; liter- ally “ just a line.” Please make as much as you can for —us. Smith & Nelson, Broad Street, will take the commission on a_ ten- point margin. . MARGARET. Us! I felt peculiarly soothed, pleasantly conscious that I was no longer alone in the world; and it occurred to me that I must have been terribly lonely— yesterday, even though I hadn't ‘no- ticed it particularly. The jewels gave me a chill. Mar- garet must have collected everything in the line of jewelry that she owned for me to pawn. There were several rings; plain gold and diamond-studded bracelets, pearls and other neck adorn- ments, and a tiara sort of thing. I had no idea of their worth, but I locked my doors and pulled the shades, and in miserlike gloom contemplated Margaret's brilliant toys, striving to believe that it would be quite proper for me to pawn them. The effort was not successful; yet I realized that if I did not do as she asked she would be sure to raise the dickens, and that I could not take ad- vantage of her tip if I deprived her, by my squeamishness, of the chance to make many thousands of dollars. I spent a rather miserable Sunday afternoon, noting the addresses of sev- eral “uncles’’ who might accommo- comicloooks.com