Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 44: what you’re looking at

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walking over to the Sands County, with- drawing my funds and leaving this town? You haven’t brought any charges against me.”’ He began pacing back and forth the length of the big directors’ room, while Beth sat calmly at her desk apparent- ly engaged in the routine work of her day. She vouchsafed no reply to Stokes’s protes- tations. He went and gazed a long time out of the window into the busy street and across at the red brick facade of the build- ing occupied by the Sands County Trust and Savings Company, where a small for- tune lay snugly safeguarded in the name of Stokes. Why hadn’t he jumped twenty-four hours sooner? Why had he been such an opti- mistic fool? Why had he underestimated the dangers of the situation? Why hadn’t he had sense enough to know that there are always forces at work against people like him? Why, during a lifetime of shady ac- tivities, hadn’t he learned something? Well, he had never been convicted of a crime. The sleeping indictment in the Ohio courts might go on and slumber indefinitely, its chances of coming to life ever more re- mote as witnesses scattered and memories of events became hazy. In another three years it ought to be dead from neglect. Stirred up now, however, it might land him in the penitentiary. Feeling against shady stock promotions had been running high of late. It wouldn’t do to kick a sleeping dog. Stokes knew his Alhambra proposition was as full of holes as a sponge. Superfi- cially it looked good; but when scrutinized by an unsentimental district attorney, he knew it wouldn’t hold water for a minute. His promotion literature, written with a guarded sophistication, and with an appar- ent frankness convincing to the gullible and innocent, would be interpreted not by what it actually said, but by its moral intent. Meticulous use of the Words “ should ” and “would ” in place of “ shall” and “ will”; frequent insertion of phrases like “ it is our opinion that,” ‘“ we believe we have every reason to think,” and the blanket state- ment at the end of each piece of printed matter that “ the information contained in ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. this circular has been obtained from sources deemed by us reliable and trustworthy, but is not guaranteed,” would not save him. He simply did not dare submit Alhambra to the searchlight of expert investigation. And yet Miss Benson hadn’t threatened. She had in no way compounded his guilt. She had not used such words as “ crooked,”’ “ shady,” “ illegal,” “‘ unlawful,” or “ crim- inal.” She had simply suggested to him the expediency of immediate restoration, and Stokes was as helpless as an infant. Suddenly he turned toward his tormentor. * All right,” he said. ‘‘ You win.” Beth looked up from her work. “Thank you, Mr. Stokes,” she said. “I thought you’d see my point of view.” She picked up the telephone. “Yes, Miss Benson,” came the voice of the switchboard operator in the outer office. * Number?” “Get Mr. French, of the Sands County Trust & Savings, please, Sadie,” said Beth. TX. “ “THERE,” said Miss Beth Benson to Mr. Edward Chesterton French half an hour later, when Mr. Stokes had taken a some- what mournful departure, ‘“‘ that cleans that up.” Ed French looked at his competitor for the banking business of Templeton and vicinity, and it could not be said that his gaze lacked anything of admiration—or, perhaps better, a kind of wondering appre- ciation. “ Beth,” he asked, “ how do you do it?” She smiled up at him from her father’s big desk. “Ed, can’t you see? It’s the only way. I blame myself that I didn’t realize earlier just what harm a man like Stokes could do; and I must say I blame you even more. If the banks won’t put the community ahead of their selfish profits—”’ “ But, Beth—” Just what Mr. French intended to say the record does not show. He sighed, picked up his gloves and hat, and turned toward the door. Then, over his shoulder: *“ How about lunch?” Beth shook her head. Gomichbooks-com