Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

TICKETS TO PARADISE. “Leave it to me, Mart,” Charlie Rand assured him. ‘“ That there baile will be what Eastern papers would term the crown- ing social event of the season.” He winked significantly at his companion. ‘‘ And I guess I know who’s your special reason. Don’t blame you at all, Mart. You’ve got a good eye when it comes to picking ’em. Congrats in order yet?” ‘A little previous, mebbe, Chass,” Sand- isfield replied. ‘‘ But there’s lots of time.” ‘‘ Sure,’ Rand agreed readily. Then, af- ter a pause: ‘“‘ Seen Cousin Hugh this morn- ing?” “No. What’s up?” ‘He was looking for you awhile ago. Last I saw of him he was headed toward your office. He’s a great lad, is Hugh Lamberton. Only they’s one important les- son he ain’t learned; poker and whisky don’t mix worth a plugged copper. But at that it’s none of my business.” “ Hugh oiled last night, was he?” Sandis- field queried in languid interest. ‘Was he oiled!” Rand’s grunt was high- ly expressive. ‘‘ I'll say he was! But you’d never suspect it to see him this morning. He’s as chipper and fresh as if he’d sfept ten hours. I believe in giving a fellow all the credit he’s got coming, and Hugh Lam- berton certainly can get over the effects of his liquor almighty sudden. Wish I knew how he does it. If I’d absorbed the punish- ment he did last night I’d be dead to the world for the next twenty-four hours.” Sandisfield rose from his chair. ‘Likely Hugh’s waiting for me down at the office,” said he. ‘‘I might as well drift along that way and find out what’s on his mind. See you again, Charlie.” “ Adios, Mart. Tell the young lady that we'll have the best dance music west of Chicago—and all on her account.” “Tl tell her, Chass,” Sandisfield laughed as they parted. ‘“‘ That ought to make a big hit.” Still laughing, he left the restaurant, and steered a leisurely course toward his busi- ness headquarters. Devious thoughts filled the mind of Martin Sandisfield as his heels echoed hollowly on the plank walk. ‘Hugh Lamberton’s a damned fool,” was 483 the substance of these musings. “ But a fool and his folly make a combination that any wise man can use to his advantage—if he wants to. What would the world be without its annual sucker crop?” Sandisfield had left the door of his office unlocked before going to breakfast, and was accordingly not surprised to find Hugh Lamberton installed there quite as if the place belonged to him—tipped back in a comfortable swivel chair, boot heels ele- vated to the desk, and one of his host’s ex- cellent cigars projecting from the corner of his mouth at a rakish angle. “Hello, Mart!” he called jovially, ex- pelling a cloud of smoke. “ ’Bout time you were showing up.” Sandisfield shot his caller a swift, ap- praising glance. No one would have sus- pected that this was a “‘ morning after ” for Lamberton. His face was smooth shaven, his eyes clear, and nerves steady. Yet Charlie Rand vouched for the fact that a few hours before, Hugh had been thorough- ly lubricated. Sandisfield shook his head, as one who passes up a hopeless riddle. ‘““ How do you do it?” he grumbled, voic- ing a grudging admiration. Hugh grinned sardonically. “It’s a gift, Mart,” said he. ‘“* Must be,” Sandisfield conceded. “ What do you want, anyway?” ‘‘ About three thousand— U-m-m! No, better make it thirty-five hundred.” ‘““Humph!” Sandisfield snorted. to you again, did they! you could play poker?” ‘““ Save that for the coroner,” Lamberton chuckled, wholly unabashed. ‘“‘ What I need now is cash, not a sermon.” “ Got Whoever told you ‘““How much of your paper do I hold?> You any idea?” ‘Why, sure. I know toa penny. Twelve thousand, ain’t it? And this last brings the merry total up to fifteen, five hundred.” “When you aiming to pay it back?” “Why, to be perfectly frank with you, Mart,” Hugh Lamberton replied engaging- ly, “chances are I'll never pay it back. What the hell do you care about a beggarly fifteen thousand? What’s the matter? Get- ting tight all of a sudden?” ECOMIE JOOKS: com