The Argosy, August 1914 — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

A SMILING NEMESIS. ly from within bestowed a particu- larly mellow smile on a policeman who seemed to be harboring hostile designs on him, thus disarming that individual completely, and then, striding suddenly up to Roland, calmly inserted a finger in the buttonhole of his coat and in- quired : “Who are you?” Roland just smiled. The other, reaching in his pocket, produced a salted almond. “Have a nut,” he said. “ Nibble with abandon until your hunger is gone, and then I will reward you by telling you the story of my life.” Roland good-naturedly put the al- mond in his mouth. “Ha! now there is a bond between us,’ ejaculated the ejected party, much gratified. “It is not everybody who has received a salted almond at the hands of Professor Copernicus.-Come, brother, let us eschew this throng. In it are many doubtless meritorious people, but I wish to hold no converse with them. I see no embryo Dantes, no budding Immanuel Kants.” Slipping his arm through Roland’s, he drew him away, followed by the smiles and chuckles of the crowd. “Fear me not, youth,” he pursued; “T am always docile on Tuesdays in the early spring. My name, as I re- marked, is Copernicus, except on Thursdays after four, when it is H. Balthazar Dreadnought. And, by the way, do I bore you? I frequently bore myself. Have a nut.” He presented a_ walnut. took it. “Ha!” said his eccentric compan- ion; “now you simply must hear my story. It invariably follows the con- catenation of one salted almond and one walnut.” His extraordinary flow of language pleased the young man’s mood. “Tell me your story,’ he urged. “Certainly,” said the other. “ First, I-am very -wise. Second, I am. a blamed fool. Third, I have been every- where, done everything, and acquired Roland 127 all knowledge except that of overcom- ing one weakness. _“ Strange ’’—he lowered his voice to sepulchral depths—“ that one like me, who calls the stars by their first names, should yearn fiercely for—what do you suppose? To see the inside workings of a genuinely swell func- tion—a warranted élite ball—a soirée of the créme de la créme. “You saw me pirouette just now down yonder steps. It was the ninth time in seven months. I had penetra- ted as far as the dining-room, sur- rounded by lovely women and whole platoons of very distinguished though angry men, and had just seized a handful of nuts—have one—when— what’s the matter? ” Roland had stopped in his walk and was eying his companion with sudden deep interest. “You are just the man I want,’ he said. “ Will you come to America with me?” “Sorry, but as a swimmer—” began the other man. Roland continued: “ Come with me, and I'll promise to get you into as grand a function as you could ever hope to see and—what is infinitely more important—guarantee that you are not thrown out!”’ “Oh, cricky!” The other was ren- dered speechless for a moment. “ It will seem as if something vital were lacking,” he murmured half to him- self. Then, in an awed whisper, he asked : “When do we start?” “As soon as I can raise the price. How much have you? ” “Three shillings. And you?” “Three pounds.” | The uncouth one sat down sudden- ly on the curb and buried his face in his hands. “Twas ever thus,” he groaned. “Leave me. I don’t want you to see a strong man weep.” “But wait a while,” protested Roland. ‘ Something may turn up.” His companion put his hands to his b COMMICLOOOKS (C@