Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

i THE DESPERATE YOUNG MAN. The small, insignificant personality of Mr. George Henry Chedworth - sidled through the doorway, but kept hold of the handle of the door as though to maintain a line of escape. “Well, what is it you want, Ched- worth?” | Mr, Chedworth, without replying, gazed in a constrained, apologetic way, first at the senior partner and next at the unheed- ing junior partner, and next at the floor, where he appeared to find great interest in the pattern of the carpet. The senior partner, taking note of these symptoms, immediately conceived a suspicion. “Tf youre thinking about applying for an increase of salary, Chedworth—” he began, crisply. “Oh, no, sir—not at all!” disclaimed Mr. Chedworth. ‘ Nothing of the sort, sir, 1 assure you.” “Glad you’ve more sense than to bother me with things like that,” said Mr. Steb- bings, mollified. ‘ Well, now, what is it you wish to see me about?” “ Awkward,” murmured Mr. Chedworth, fidgeting with the lowest button of his waistcoat. ‘‘ Hard to explain, sir. Sort of —sort of favor.” Mr. Stebbings, mistrustful of this last word, grunted in an indefinite and some- what unencouraging way. “T want to—to give notice—” blurted out Mr. Chedworth. Notice?” cried Mr. Stebbings. tice of what?” “ Resign,” explained Mr. Chedworth, backing a little closer to the door. “I want to give up my job here.” Even as he spoke, the words struck him as crude and ungrateful, and he cast about in his mind for some polite addition to soften the asperity of his announcement. ** Been very comfortable here, of course, and so forth and so on,” he declared hus- kily. ‘“ Been here a good many years now. Be a bit of a wrench to leave. Still—”’ He passed his forefinger round the inner side of his collar and gazed appealingly at Mr. Stebbings. The senior partner sat back and stared at him in an aloof, offend- ed manner. The junior partner flickered a cold glance at Mr. Chedworth, rasped, “* No- ag 285 “Then why leave?” and straightway re- sumed his close scrutiny of the ledger. ‘““I—I been left a fortune,’”’ mentioned Mr. Chedworth diffidently. “What?” barked Mr. Stebbings. 3 “Been left a fortune,” repeated Mr. Chedworth, as though he were making a confession of something of which he was ashamed. ‘““You—you’ve been left—” demanded Mr. Stebbings, : He broke off and swung round in his chair to look at the clock on the mantel- shelf. Mr. Chedworth at once comprehended the significance of the action. “Oh, no, sir—it isn’t that!” he inter- posed hurriedly, ‘‘ I—I know quite well what I’m talking about. I ain’t been any- where this morning, except—except just to the lawyer’s. The chief clerk gave me per- mission. It—it’s quite right, sir. I been left a fortune.” “But, hang it all, Chedworth,” pro- tested Mr. Stebbings, with the petulance of one asked to accept the incredible. “ You with a fortune!” “Tt—it is rum, ain’t it, sir?” agreed Mr. Chedworth. ‘I can’t hardly believe it myself, not yet.” ‘“‘ Depends what he calls a fortune,” ob- served the junior partner, poring a little nearer over the ledger. “Three thousand pounds a year,” stated Mr. Chedworth bashfully. “Three thousand pounds a_ year?” echoed Mr. Stebbings, in a kind of angry skepticism. ‘** Rather more, if anything,” said Mr. Chedworth apologetically. ‘Left me by my grandfather’s brother. Course I never guessed, sir—” “Are you sure there isn’t some mis- take?” interrupted Mr. Stebbings. “It may be a hoax. Have you actually got the money yet?” “ Fixed it up this morning, sir. Finished the last bit of business about it. That’s what I got permission to go to the lawyer’s for. Been arranging it and settling it all this last three weeks, sir. And now it’s done, I can’t hardly believe it. I didn’t believe it could be truemyself,,. That’s why