Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

THE WILD BULL OF MONTANA. would of certainly grasped at it, had it looked not one-half so attractive as it ac- tually did. Now, as for this little frame-up of Ed- die’s—you see I am cheerfully giving Mr. West the entire credit and not trying to detract from his laurels in any way, shape or manner—vwell, so’s in order to save later explanations, I might say here that it was based on the following facts, or you might say propositions, viz., and to wit: First, on the undeniable truth that, as regards by far the major share of the fickle public, the so-called presumption of inno- cence, as respects practically all our most popular crimes, works with what you might call the reverse English in respects to people that makes their living on the stage. That’s to say, take any actress—like, for instance, Miss Muriel Montrose, and she is presumed to be guilty as charged until she proves herself innocent, and even then there’s a lot of people that will have to be shown. And, secondly, that in view of the im- pression, which was no less than terrific, made by one Clarence Brown, known as the Wild Bull of Montana, on Mr. Horace J. Hooper, who, it was only fair to presume that, using Clarence as a sort of triple- threat man, so to say, it was possible to stampede Mr. Hooper in practically any given direction; and that what’s more, once on his way, Mr. Hooper would be in no tearing hurry to return. And I am still of the firm opinion that, purely as theories, both of the above prope- sitions was absolutely sound. But however that may be, at breakfast on the morning after my world conference with Mr. Eddie West, Mr. Hooper being in the act of inhaling a three-minute egg, and, therefore, temporarily mute so far as ar- ticulated speech was concerned—anyways, I took the occasion to ask him would he care to join me at the Hotel Doughmont for lunch. Well, the immediate results of this ap- parently harmless question was twofold— consisting of an elegantly hand-embroidered look of suspicion from the wife, and a _prompt acceptance from Mr. Hooper. - So a little later I am in the process of going quietly away from there, when right - 319 out of a clear sky I am confronted with a unlooked-for difficulty in the shapely shape of the missus. ‘* What’s the ‘idea of this all of a sudden inviting Horace out to lunch?” demands the little woman harshly. “Why, nothing,” I says innocently. “Can’t a guy take his own brother-in- law out to lunch without being subjected to a series of cross word examinations in respect to his motives? Why wouldn’t I take him out to lunch?” “Why would you?” comes back the frau promptly. “Why,” I says, “‘ I suppose because he’ S a right guy and I want to treat him right.” * Right guy!” snaps the wife. ‘“ How long since? You got something up your sleeve, and I know it!” “Woman,” says I, “ you wrong me. On my honor as a British officer, I am using positively no apparatus whatsoever.” And with the last word—for once, any- ways—I closed the door gently but firmly behind me. Well, Mr. Hooper shows up promptly at the Hotel Doughmont, where I was already waiting for him in the lobby. So we’re on our ways to the restaurant when, by pre- vious arrangement, I am loudly paged for a phone call. So I says for Horace to wait here and I'll be back in a jiffy. So a few minutes later I report back in a state of breathless excitement. ‘“Listen!’’ I says to Mr. Hooper. “‘ That phone call was from Eddie West. This morning, see, on the way to the office, I happened to meet up with Eddie and his little friend the Wild Bull of Montana— name’s Brown, you remember—and so I dropped the remark that I was lunching here with you. So Eddie calls up to say that Brown has found out about you and Muriel—somebody must of tipped him off this morning—and, anyways, the Wild Bull is right this minute headed for the Dough- mont, so Eddie says to get going, on ac- count the Wild Bull is sure out for trouble, and what’s more, if you take his advice you'll leave town for a while.” ‘“*But—what—I don’t understand!” stutters Mr. Hooper. “ This man Brown — —what’s Muriel to him?”