Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

16 time. He knew that he ought to keep quiet and let his angry rival spill the beans. But he simply couldn’t do it. “That “Il do, Crawford!’ His voice had a rasping edge to it. “If you’re going to bring Miss Todd’s name into the conversation it will have to be in more respectful terms.” The other caught himself together with a realization of how loosely his tongue had been wagging. “Oh, all right.” He laughed un- easily. ‘‘ No offense intended. Guess I was talking a lot of guff anyhow. I hardly know what I am saying when I get sore at the cards that way. It’s over now, though, and Ill be good. Sit down, and let’s play another hand.” “No.” Norman shook his head de- cisively. “I am going to bed.” Crawford gave a hasty peep at his watch. His purpose had been to keep Norman up late; and he felt he had accomplished all that was required, so he made only a show of protest. “Half past one?” He feigned an expression of surprise. “ Well, prob- ably we had better quit. Not much time left, is there, before they'll be routing us out in the morning?” He followed Norman over to the desk, and heard him put in a call to be wakened in time for the seven thirty train to Rio Rita, but announced that he himself was too wide awake for bed yet, and would smoke a cigar to quiet his nerves before he turned in. As Norman disappeared up the stairs, though, he turned back to the desk, and gave the clerk a significant wink. His annoyance over his petty losses at the cards had vanished by this time, and he was evidently intent on bigger game. “The gentleman’s apt to sleep pretty heavy after being up so late, don’t you think, Frank?” he chuckled. “ And it would be a shame to wake him up for any pesky old train. Just forget that call he left for the morning.” He passed a bill across to the clerk as he spoke, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “And now how about that car I ordered? Still waiting outside, eh? All right, then, ’ll be starting for Rio Rita. As the poet says about the wise guy: ‘He, while boob companions slept, went toiling upward in the night.’ Ain’t it the truth, Frank?” The night clerk, watching him as he passed out the door, murmured: “There’s a bozo who certainly hates himself.”’ Then he glanced at the denomination of the bill which Crawford had given him: and, finding it satisfactory, scratched off the call that Norman had left for six forty-five. CHAPTER IV, THE STROKE OF TWELVE, LONG session at cards is poor preparation for a night of restful slumber. Norman tried to compose himself, but in spite of all he could do, a mad- dening succession of pinochle hands kept running through his head, and his mind continued to revolve the events and actions of the evening. He knew that he had been wrong in stopping Crawford just when the Iat- ter was on the point of blurting out the details of whatever intrigue was be- ing carried on in connection with the irrigation contract. Molly Todd, if she ever learned of it, would probably be ready to scalp him, And yet he felt that he would do the same thing over again. His only regret was that he had not smashed Crawford in the mouth for his offensive epithets. And, after all, he asked himself, what had been lost? Suppose he had let Crawford go ahead with the dis- closure, would he have really discov- ered anything? ; Norman was inclined to think not, for, in spite of Molly Todd’s warning, and the suspicious circumstances that seemed to lend color to it, he et still Gomichbooks: (EO)