Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

A86 him buffaloed as much as I did. Me—I couldn’t understand why Uncle Joe put that business of you marrying Janice in his will. The old gent was sort of blind to a lot of things toward the end.” “ Fortunately for both of us,” Sandisfield put in smoothly. ‘“ But all this is aside from the point. I’ve stated the issue as it stands, and the cards go as dealt. You do your part, and things will be rosy for each of us. “ Janice thought the world of her uncle, and the fact that he wanted her to marry me can’t help but guide her decision. A word or two from you at the right instant will be another push. For my part, I ex- pect to show her a wonderful time at the big dance, and, everything considered, I ought to be sitting pretty. Plenty of girls would be tickled to grab me for a husband,” he added modestly, “and Jan ain’t any exception to the general run. Girls are pretty much all alike.” “ Hate yourself, don’t you!” Lamberton observed sourly. ‘“‘ Here’s a bit of advice I’m handing out for your own good—and mine. You own a rotten temper, and if you want to win Janice you’d best keep it well hidden until after the wedding. If she ever sees you in the condition I have once or twice, just kiss your chances good- by. One thing more. Don’t get too inti- mate with the dance-hall janes from now on. Janice has ideas about that sort of thing. It might get to her. Savvy?” “ Both your points are well taken,” San- disfield said. ‘“‘ But I’m not quite a fool. Don’t worry about my end of the proposi- tion. You’ve got an assignment of your own to look after.” For a fleeting instant a look of uncer- tainty—almost of misery—lurked in Hugh Lamberton’s eyes and on his weak face. “Tm a fine guy, I am,” he said bitterly, “to help you snare a girl like my Cousin Janice—a fine guy! You're not fit to touch her.” “Rather late in the day for such heroic sentiments, isn’t it?” Sandisfield sneered. “ Ves,” Hugh assented, “ too late. What the hell can I do? You’ve got me where the hair is short.” He laughed jarringly. “ Give me a drink, Mart.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Sandisfield silently produced glasses and a bottle. ‘““Here’s to the bride!” Lamberton called, and poured his liquor down. | ‘To the bride, God bless her!” Sandis- field echoed, emptying his own glass. With that formality out of the way, he produced his check book in businesslike fashion. ‘“ Suppose I make this one for four thou- sand, Hugh?” he inquired. “ Five hundred extra will give you a little pocket money— after settling accounts.” “Good enough, Mart!” and a covetous gleam betrayed Lamberton’s interest as he watched his companion fill out the amount. Sandisfield deliberately blotted the ink, rip- ping the narrow slip of paper from his check book. , “Here you are, Hugh!” Then, meaning- ly: “ You understand?” “Sure, I know the synopsis by heart,’ was Lamberton’s flippant reply. ‘‘ Adios, Mart,” and hastily he departed from the office. No change of expression passed over Sandisfield’s features as he watched him go, merely a shrug of the shoulders indicating amusement and contempt. ‘A fool and his folly!” muttered Martin Sandisfield, Jr. —— os CHAPTER II, MEET BOB KENWORTHY. N a certain glorious morning of a day in early summer Mr. Martin Sandis- field, Jr., went riding forth on the range, headed for the Boxed J L ranch, where he looked forward with keen antici- pation to some hours spent in the charming - company of Janice Lamberton, its fair owner. This was an occasion when it pleased the boss of Bald Butte to be appareled in typi- cal cowboy garb, yet few range riders could have afforded equipment so luxurious and costly as Sandisfield. From the top of his jauntily peaked pearl-gray Stetson to the toes of his nobby high-heeled boots our rider fairly radiated splendor. Martin deserved to rank as an expert GComichboo (E <S (E@)