Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

674 at some secondhand shop, or bought from some of the scores of artists thereabout. The furniture was of the same jumbled character. Three big divans, two of them of worn Spanish leather, one of faded brocade; chairs aplenty, no two alike, and ranging from the ornate seat once used by the dean of a cathedral, down to a three- legged milking stool from Belgium; small tables bearing hubble-bubble pipes, copper coffee sets, cloisonné cigarette boxes, candle- sticks. Things which could easily be hauled against the walls, leaving a clear space for dancing, George thought. Three doors led from this main room. The first gave into a small but rather ele- gant bedchamber, with a full set of nearly new Circassian walnut. This had evidently been Count Vaudreuil’s sleeping room. The second opened into a little cabinet that George had known in America as a “ den.” It held a few books and, in a large cabinet, many bottles. He ran his eye over them, and in the light of his recent experience at the Three Queens realized that he was the owner of an exceedingly choice “ cellar.” A sort of roof-cellar, so to say. There were also several hundred important looking cigars, and a stack of imported and do- mestic cigarettes. A fireplace, a couple of intriguing ‘easy chairs, and paneled walls made this a cozy sort of place; and a broad, low couch before the one small window rendered it available as a spare bedroom. The last door gave into a well furnished kitchenette, and here George found Ugichi pottering with a tea service. ‘‘ May I come in?” George asked pleas- antly before crossing the threshold. Ugichi bowed nobly. “ It is yours,” he said. “ Ours,” George corrected him. “ May I join you in a cup of tea? And ”—a bit anxiously—“ you don’t happen to have anything to eat?” There appeared to be everything in the way of conveniences and comforts in this little room with its electric stove, shining pans and pots, cabinet of dishes aud cut- lery, enamel sink and all, excepting food. Ugichi indicated a few tins of English bis- cuits, part of an unpleasant looking cheese, and some cans of evaporated milk. These, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY with sugar, spices and one lemon, comprised the larder. George sighed, and retired to the little den. He speculated upon how long one might manage to exist upon liquors and cigars. At least, he could sell some of them! The thrifty tradespeople would gouge him hor- ribly, of course. He knew nothing of values. A curious streak of acumen, an inheritance from his father most likely, made him hate to sell good wine ’way below what Vau- dreuil had paid for it. Possibly a better way would be to exchange it directly for food. He wondered if he could be arrested for selling the stuff without a license! He had heard, somewhere, that it was almost a capital crime in France to deal in tobacco without a permit. He would have to ask Ugichi. The boy appeared at this instant. He never seemed to make any noise walking about, although he wore European shoes, and indeed dressed as an Occidental, save that when indoors he put on a gorgeous robe broidered with gold and crimson dragons. He set the tea service upon the table and started to withdraw. ** Here!” George called out. ‘“ Wait! I want you to have tea with me. To tell. the truth, I’m lonesome. Want to talk with somebody. Ask some questions, too.” Ugichi bowed, and poured into two ex- quisitely thin porcelain bowls the boiling water that caused to unroll, luxuriously like a cat’s paws, the long, thin leaves he had placed in the dry cups. He covered them with their saucers, and waited for the tea to draw. Meanwhile George rummaged about and found a bottle of very old, dry Amontillado. Always in training, he had scarcely tasted liquor at all until he came to Paris, save for an occasional glass of beer. Nor had he smoked, save sparingly, in intervals of training or during vacations. Now he poured out two glasses of the aromatic sherry, and opened a fresh box of Egyptians. Ugichi had squatted upon a little rug, ‘and produced a long bamboo pipe into whose tiny copper bowl he put a pinch of Japanese tobacco horribly scented with some rank perfume. He gravely refused the sherry, but brought out from the folds ~ comicbooks:com: