Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

1 eee lig) THE DESPERATE YOUNG MAN. you! And squandering it in an expensive restaurant. And you said yourself that you were only a clerk yesterday. What does all that point to? And, on top of that, try- ing to find somewhere where you can lie low! No, don’t try to bluff it out. You’ve got that two hundred pounds from some- where somehow! Theft or blackmail, or whatever it was, you’ve got it! And you’re going to give—yes, give me eighty pounds of it!” ‘*T shan’t! I won’t! You’re all wrong “Eighty pounds,” demanded the young man. “ I’m letting you off lightly. I’m not taking a penny more than I absolutely need. The biter’s bitten, my friend.” ‘You wouldn’t dare kill me!” “LT could! I tell you I’m desperate!” “You wouldn’t dare!” The young man perceptibly hesitated. Well, I don’t know. But if you don’t give up, by the Lord, Ill hand you over to the police!” ‘“Go on,” challenged Mr. Chedworth, thrilling with relief, “ Do it! I shan’t give you a penny. Hand me over to the police!” “And what good will that do you? You'll get a year or two in jail. Far wiser to give me what I ask.” ““T. won’t,” stoutly returned Mr. Ched- worth, marveling at his own courage. | “ Give it to me, or I’ll take it,” screamed the young man in a sudden access of pas- sion. ‘‘ Give it to me!” He strode forward, pointing the revolver straight at Mr. Chedworth. The little man, after one dread glance at the other’s new expression, capitulated. “All right—I’ll pay!” he panted. ‘““ Here’s—here’s the money.” With trembling fingers he counted out the notes and thrust them at the young man. “Just in time!” breathed the latter, snatching at his booty. “ Another five seconds, and— Oh, I can’t! I can’t!” he cried wildly, and pushed back the notes into Mr. Chedworth’s hands. “I can’t do it! It’s the first time—” He flung himself into a chair, and, cov- ering his face with his hands, broke into weak sobbing. ‘Here, give me the key!” quavered Mr, }? 291 Chedworth, as much shaken by his reprieve as by the peril of the last few moments. “ Let me get out of this. Give me the key. I shan’t—” The young man dragged the key from his pocket and dropped it at Mr. Ched- worth’s feet. Mr. Chedworth eagerly bent to pick it up, and as he did so there came a hurried rapping at the door, and a woman’s voice anxiously called out: ‘Brian? Are you there, Brian? What’s wrong, dear? Let me in—let me in at once!” IV. THE young man dashed the back of his hand across his eyes and looked up at Mr. Chedworth. “Its—it’s my wife,” he said. ‘“ Don’t give me away. I don’t want her ever to know. I must have been mad—mad!”’ Mr. Chedworth fumblingly unlocked the door and opened it. On the threshold stood a young and very beautiful woman. She ran into the room and bent over the young man. Mr. Chedworth, stepping thankfully out onto the dark landing, pulled the door to behind him, and leaned, trembling, against the banisters. ‘* The police,’ he whispered to himself, ‘‘ Straight to the police! Trying to rob me —revolver and all! The police—they’ll—” He stopped. A disconcerting thought flashed athwart his resolve. There’d be a police court case, and it would be in the newspapers very likely. And then it would come out that he had two hundred pounds on him, and that he’d met the chap at lunch; and then Mrs. Chedworth would want to know all about it, and there’d be the end of his dream of idle, cheerful little holidays by himself. And Mrs. Chedworth would have a lot to say about hiding the news of the legacy from her. No, it wouldn’t do! After all, he’d lost nothing. He’d just keep quiet about the affair, And, in a way, he was feeling rather glad that this decision had been forced upon him. That young lady—she looked so alarmed and anxious. She’d done him no harm. And, dare say, the young fellow was in a pretty awkward fix. ~ Been mighty desperate. myst. PVSR