The Argosy, January 1907 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

DOWN AND OUT. He was in a deadly, uncontrollable rage! No more was he the weak and vacillating youth who had trembled and wept at the unknown shame_ which threatened him; he saw Lomark through a blood-red haze, and fought to reach him like a madman: Wib Harris, who had shrunk in such horror from arrest on a civil case, now put himself in jeopardy of being jailed on a criminal charge. One of Lomark’s clerks shouted for the police and ran to call up the station on the telephone; but the others hustled the young man out of the shop and fairly threw him » upon the sidewalk. Numbers only had overpowered him, and Wib went away breathing vengeance against the whole crowd. It was some moments before he re- covered himself sufficiently to realize that he was attracting attention by swinging his clenched fists and mutter- ing. He pulled himself together and hastened to his work. He had done his. best with Lomark, he told himself. The man was after revenge, not money, and he might ex- pect no mercy from him. Indeed, he craved none now. Let the scoundrel do his worst. With his awakening from the torpor of. fear which had bound him heretofore had come a spirit of sul- len recklessness not at all natural to Wilbur Harris. Fle accepted as final the fact that there remained but one hope for him. Adrian Lowther must help him. Whether it cost him his. place with -Mc- Cann & Lowther or not, Adrian must be found and made to testify regarding Mr. Peter Ware’s order. By proving that the mistake had not been his, Wib could lawfully claim his commissions, which now amounted to more than enough to settle the judg- ment Crosscup & Fysher had obtained for their client. Adrian Lowther must be found. CHAPTER VIII. 3 HAVING IT OUT.” Ir was the missing man’s uncle who met the belated salesman when he en- tered the side door of McCann & Low- 259 ther’s emporium. It was past nine o'clock. ‘Why are you late, Harris?” de- manded the junior partner, with a scowl that would have done credit to McCann himself. ‘“ You would better be more prompt if you wish to keep your posi- tion with us.” “T am seldom late, Mr. Lowther; it was unavoidable this morning,” said Wib, respectfully. But his eyes flashed; he was in no mood to endure Lowther’s cheap bully- ing. “You're out too much at night,” snapped the other. “I hear of you at dances and places of amusement. You attend to business a little closer and you won't make another such mistake as you did about Mr. Ware’s table. We've just got it back from the manu- facturer, and the truckmen will take it up to-day. Consider what trouble you made the firm “Wait a moment, sir!” interrupted Wib. “TI don’t admit that I did any- thing of the kind. . I am being charged for a loss that was not my fault. When your nephew returns - “Stop it!”? commanded Lowther hot- ly. “Don’t let me hear anything about that again. My nephew knows nothing about the business.” “You'll find out that he does,” de- clared Wib firmly. “I shall ask him to tell you and Mr. McCann just what he remembers about the order the mo- ment I can find him.” ‘ You—you dare to Harris!” gasped Lowther, livid with rage. ‘‘ [—I If you dare speak of this again in my presence, or if [ hear of your making any attempt to see my nephew, you shall be discharged, sir —discharged! Do you understand?” He gave Wib no opportunity for ¥e- ply, but rushed off to his private office and slammed the door. But Wib had come to a place now where browbeat- ing did not make him tremble. Something Lowther had said aroused his suspicions, too. Could it be possi- ble that Adrian was not out of town, look for him, after all? He had already suspected a mystery regarding the young man’s absence. Lowther said that if he, Wib, made EOPMICLOOOKS (C@)