Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

BING,. BANG, BOOM! at his slumping form and haggard face. Suppose that Ruth should see him like ‘that! What would she think of him now? Wouldn’t she spurn him for a quitter? Be- heve him to be like some piece of fireworks, flaring up into brilliancy once or twice, then remaining nothing but a burned-out, blackened shell? . And with that thought—that straight- ened his sagging shoulders and lifted his chin from his chest—came another. Was he beaten? Did Turner’s obstruction of that single plan spell utter ruin? As he had once, so could he not again think of some ™ attraction” — one that even Tur- ner’s noisy power-house could not affect? Two dabs of color sprang out from the pallor of his cheeks, a faint flush that was painted half by the hand of revived hope and half by the hand of shame. He was shamed by the thought of the dejection that had gripped him; shamed by the thought that he had momentarily acknow!- edged submission to Turner. Well, he would retrieve himself for that. He would fight all the harder now. He wasn’t beat- en! He would find a way! When he left the hotel and climbed back into his buggy, he was once again Bing, Bang, Boom. As he circled the driveway that led to Majestic Road he thought that he saw lights moving about in the field that lay to the left of the hotel grounds, and when he drew rein and listened into the stillness, the faint sound of voices came to him. He drove on. . Very likely it was Turner and some friends looking over the ground that was to harbor the power-house. Fred had informed him that work upon it was to be begun immediately. “Well, Turner,” he muttered, turning to face the moving eyes of light, “ you’ve given me a peach of a wallop, but I’m not knocked out yet!” But his problem was not one that mere determination could solve. He struggled with it until far into the night; it was with bim at his waking the following morning: and the more he thought upon it, the more ' hopelessly he seemed to be entangled. He was now in debt to the amount of ten thousand dollars, which exacted an an- 8A 497 nual interest of six per cent, and his orig- inal five thousand dollars had dwindled to less than twenty-five hundred. -It was true that he was now possesséd of a hotel that was ready to throw open its doors to guests, but he despaired of ever finding another at- traction to take the place of the quiet that Turner would soon despoil. The prox- imity of a noisy power-house not only de- creased the value of his property, but it made the hotel very undesirable to guests that might be lured to it by whatever plan he might devise. He had awakened with the dawn, and he had lain abed until the sun was well up, thinking about his new state of affairs. Now, because he felt a wave of melancholy coming upon him again, threatening him with the spiritless inertia he scorned, he jumped up, drew on his clothes, and went dowh-stairs. Inaction, he decided, was fa- tal to him. He must do something—keep, at a distance the numbing despair to which reflection gave rise. After he had finished breakfast, and emerged from the dining-room to the lob- by, he was confronted by Sheriff Warren. “Noah Spigot wants to see you,” said the sheriff. ‘I been waitin’ fer you.” ‘Noah Spigot!” Bert exclaimed. ‘“ The prosecuting attorney?”’ Warren nodded. “ Yeh. He sent me to fetch you to his office.” ‘“That’s funny,” said Bert. does he want to see me about?” Warren shrugged, “ Ain’t fer me to say, young man. Wants. to talk to you, [ _reckon. Ready?” “Sure,” Bert replied, § wondering. ‘* Come on.” The sheriff was persistently. reticent, and after several unsuccessful attempts to en- gage him in conversation, Bert accepted the silence, maintaining it until they reached the city hall, and climbed tke stairs “What | to the prosecuting attorney’s office on the ~. second floor. Noah Spigot was alone in the room. He was seated at a large table which could not have been littered with more papers and ‘documents had he been Attorney General of the United: States. He was fussing among them with his rather pudgy hands EOMRIC OG YN S Colin