All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

710 time. An’ on me, too. You don’ look the part, buh-lieve me.” I floundered about mentally for a bit, then inquired with some _ hesita- tion: “He didn't tell you where I—got ey “ Didn't tell me nothin’ ’cep’, you’d strike Nospim’s roun’ ten; an’ I wuz jus’ gettin’ mad w’en you blew aroun’ the corner.” ““Oh, I -see. Then I owe you an apology for keeping you waiting. Really, he ought to be more explicit with his instructions,” “He should, eh?” Della bristled instantly. ‘I guess Mac don’ need to take no tips from you. You wuz tol’ ‘to make Nospim’s at ten, wuzzent you?” “Ter — eh — yes — something like that,” I had to admit. “Well, ain't that ’nough for any guy what can tell the time? ” The remainder of the way to the subway was covered in silence, and we traveled to One Hundred and Twenty- Fifth Street in much the same frame of mind. Clearly, so far as Della was con- cerned, ‘“ Mac’s’’ methods were above reproach, and she regarded my casual criticism in the light of an imperti- nence not readily to be condoned. I felt properly squelched when we reached the doors of the “ safe place,” which was not a hundred miles from Harlem's Broadway, and which sur- prised me very much in that it was just like any other pawn-shop, and much better in general appearance than most. I read the sign in amazement: THE HARLEM LOAN CO. Robert Mack Proprietor With my hand on the door-knob T queried in a low tone: THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. “This is—his?” “ Search me,”’ Della returned enig- matically, and added: “I don’t need to goin. Jus’ plant the stuff, grab the coin, and beat it. They won’ ask no questions.” I entered gingerly, and finding no other customer in the place, ap- proached the pledge-window at once. A young man, brisk and business- like, appeared. There was nothing about him to distinguish him from any of the host of New York's young men who make an eighteen - dollar, ready- made suit look worth fifty. “What can I do for you, sir?” Tone and manner quite respectful; nothing in his face to indicate the things I thought. “T have some things here—rather valuable, you know—that I should like to raise a loan on. I believe you can accommodate me? ”’ “Certainly. Let me have the arti- cles and I will appraise their value and loan you what I can on them.” The necklace, the bracelets, two more rings, and the tiara passed through the pigeonhole in succession; and the clerk vanished as the others had done, to return in a little while with the question: “IT suppose you wish to borrow upon those to the limit? ” “Yes—mnight as well. I'l be back for them on Thursday, I fancy.” I thought I saw his lips twitch, but the smile got no farther than that. “Four thousand dollars,” he intima- ted quietly. “ How will you take it?” I told him, and he paid it out to me very carefully. As I put it away in my pocketbook I looked for the ticket. “ Don’t I get some sort of receipt?” “ Not on—large quantities,’ he re- plied without the shadow of a simile. “Tl know you when you come back.” “You have my name on the things, I hope?” “ Yes—Mr, Mason.”’ That was conclusive. My name until that moment had not been men- tioned. comicloooks.com