The Argosy, August 1914 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

A SMILING NEMESIS. and discharging their gaily clad women and men. At the sight something like a shiver ran through Grelthorpe’s big frame. His companion simply smiled with added cheerfulness. The Challises’ thé dansant! At the thought Grelthorpe shivered again. During the week that had passed since the fatal dinner at his home, so rudely marred by the appearance of the indi+ vidual in rags, he and his wife had worked like beavers to restore their shattered prestige—she especially. Fly- ing from one to another of her ac- quaintances in society, bought at such an enormous cost in time and toil, she had poured out explanation so voluble and plausible of the ridiculous intru- sion at their feast that none had had the heart not to accept them and seek to forget. The “ professor,” she had explained again“and again, had always been ec- centric, but never before had he been guilty of unseemly behavior — un- doubtedly the poor man had become insane fronwehis studies and research work in remote parts of the world. Her husband, in welcoming him and asking him to join the party at the table, had failed to notice the other’s ragged garb, being prevented from doing this by the darkness outside the door. Grelthorpe, she went on, had counted on giving his. guests an un- conventional treat by introducing his old friend, whose delightful conversa- tional gifts and deep learning had often charmed him and his friends. “Poor David’s mortification is piti- ful!” she would conclude. “ It is all I can do to make him attend to his business affairs and keep up his inter- est in life.” Before such protestations even the anger of the Furbush Challises melted away, and on the day of their tea the extraordinary incident at the Grel- thorpes’ was as nearly forgotten — or at least forgiven—as such a thing pos- sibly could be. And now—David Grelthorpe ground his teeth in impotent fury as the taxi- 8 A 113 cab stopped at the Challises’ door. The young man, noticing, smiled sweetly and again hummed his happy little tune. With perfect assurance he walked into the house behind Grelthorpe and nobody thought to question his right to do so. With perfect assurance he laid aside hat and overcoat. Never for a moment did he allow his eyes to stray from the face of his companion. ‘As if it were a veritable feast to him, he watched with his unending smile the alternation of anger, mortification and abject despair that coursed over the rugged features of David Grel- thorpe. The two pressed into the throng of guests, into the chattering and laugh- ter and tinkle of teacups. To their ears came the gay strains of dance mu- sic; through the shifting groups of guests could be seen the Hungarian orchestra in red-braided coats. A’ few paces ahead, David Grel- thorpe caught sight of his wife and Mrs. Challis, the hostess. He stopped for an instant as if his progress had been arrested by a stone wall and a look of defiance came into his face as he turned to his companion. He met steel. Patusing by the-side of the door into the drawing-room, the young man said quietly: “Well?” The eyes of the two clashed. Then David Grelthorpe, white but resolute, strode forward into the room, making straight for the group ahead of him. In it, beside his wife and hostess, he recognized Lord Lastermere. A few yards from them his firm walk changed to a stagger. He lurched violently against a guest holding a tea- cup, spilling the tea into the saucer. In- stead of apologizing, he raised a hand and pushed the astonished individual out of the way. The first warning that his wife and those about her had of his advent was when he careened suddenly against her chair. With an inane grin on his face, and in a thick voice that jarred COMIC VOOKS (C@)