Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

512 felt a trifle ill at ease in the presence of the stately brunette. “ You ain’t got nothin’ on for to-night, have you? Well, suppose we hitch up for dinner at a swell place and the best show in town.” Geraldine Farley regarded the chamois cloth pensively. She liked shows. And her salary rarely permitted more than movies. But she did not like Mr. Heim, and her opinion once formed, was positive. ‘“‘T guess not, Mr. Heim,” she said coolly. ‘“‘T got a date with a fellow that’s taking me to—to see ‘ When Roses Are Dead.’ ” “ Call him up and tell him it’s off, then, Miss Farley,” he persisted. Riggs glanced up curiously from his ledger, and Blum forsook the sporting page, for the more interested spectacle of the junior partner “buzzing” the stenographer. Heim was a trifle flushed. He was accus- ‘tomed to having his own way, especially when he was in funds. The cool, brown eyes ftickered a bit re- gretfully. It had been long since she had been a guest of Broadway for an evening. Not that she did not relish entertainment. But friends of the kind she sought were few. ‘“‘T guess I’d better not, Mr. Heim,” she said quietly. ‘“‘ He’d be mad.” The junior partner scowled, fingering the money in his pocket. “Oh, all right,” he said, “ all right.” And slammed out of the door. After an interval Miss Farley went to the coat-room and donned a smart fur coat and military hat, modeled after a French design. She sighed momentarily. The atmosphere of the office of Cawston & Heim was not inspiring. And—she had no engagement for that evening. II. Cawston’s telephone jingled, and he picked up the receiver. “Mr. Martin Wilbur to see you, sir,” Miss Farley’s cool voice came to him. “ Bring him in in a minute—three min- utes.” Cawston reflected that it would be well to let the man from Flint wait, but not too long. ‘“‘ And Miss Farley—keep calling me every now and then. Don’t forget the, rich-investor stuff when I push the buzzer. @ ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. When I give you two buzzes, call Heim quick—see? Keep Blum busy and camou- flage some dictation yourself. Get it? All right.” He leaned back, stroking his chin gently. A glance around the sanctum satisfied him. An orderly pile of correspondence on the desk; «a filing cabinet labeled “ orders ”; an enlarged photograph of the Phenix mine on the wall; a pin-pricked map of the State of Texas. Everything was as it should be. Outside, Riggs would be scribbling busily in the ledger. And Blum would be running in and out with stamps. The scene setting should satisfy Mr. Martin Wilbur. Came a tap on the door and Blum ushered in the visitor. Cawston frowned momentarily. Miss Farley should have at- tended to that. It was not for nothing he had picked a pretty stenographer. ‘Good moming, Mr. Wilbur.” He glanced up from a letter. ‘‘ Have a seat.” That instantaneous glance revealed his visitor to the promoter. Wilbur was a powerful, plainly dressed man, in the early thirties, with a heavy lined face. A trifle embarrassed and excited by his surround- ings. He carried an umbrella, and his num- ber eleven shoes were cased in rubbers. ‘“‘ Good morning, sir,” Wilbur’s deep voice responded. ‘“‘ I reckon I’m intruding.” “‘ Not at all, sir, not at all,” smiled Caw- ston reassuringly. “ It’s true we're rather busy now. But we always make time for a customer. Excuse me—just a minute.” The telephone had buzzed. It was only Miss Farley. Cawston hung up after a few brief phrases calculated to impress his visitor and swung around to face Wilbur, offering him cigars. ‘The manufacturer accepted one. “‘ Let’s see, Mr. Wilbur, you’re interested - in our Pheenix mine. We'll be glad to do all we can for you. Since we last wrote to you, the stock has gone up two pomts. I’ve asked my broker to try to get a block of it for you, but he says it’s in heavy de- mand; he’ll do the best he can.” Wilbur’s wide-set eyes registered’ regret. ‘ Say, now, that’s too bad,” he rumbled. ‘“‘t figured on getting it at the price you said. You think you can still get it, don’t you?” COMICEDOO© ie) S (C(O) mM