The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

610 all he had in the world. He could get a job. Quickly he could prove his abilities. Quick- ly he would climb. He had been a fool to imagine he could build up a business as fast as he could build up a place for himself in some other man’s business. He was whistling for the first time in a month, as he dressed himself and packed his clothes for the trip. Little danger that the landlady would testify in any court pro- ceedings that his manner was that of a bankrupt who makes money by failure. He was the only one who would suffer by his bankruptcy. If he chose to be cheerful in his suffering — A rap at the door interrupted his tune. “Mr. Orton, two gentlemen down-stairs to see you,” announced Mrs. Burny’s maid of all work. Orton hurried down, a little apprehensive, a good bit more anxious to get away as quickly as possible. Two men rose in the stuffy little boarding-house parlor as he entered. One was the Jackson youth. The other, a well-dressed, rat-faced little man, began in a belligerent tone: “Mr. Orton, I am Mr. Joseph Grabstoff. Mr. Jackson has retained me as his attorney to represent him in the matter of settling for the injuries he sustained this morning in your shop.” Orton believed it. He had disliked Jack- son from the first. Jackson’s attorney seemed appropriate. “Ves,” Grabstoff growled, as if Orton had denied his last assertion; “I am empowered by my client, in view of his family’s press- ing need of immediate money, to settle all claims for two thousand dollars. You un- - derstand, I believe, that he is not likely ever to work again. The operation to save his life leaves him a hopeless cripple.” Orton did some swift thinking. He wanted to do Jackson full justice, as he wanted to do for every other man. While two thousand dollars might not be much compensation for life-crippling, it was all out of proportion to his own responsibility for Jackson’s accident. “Mr. Grabstoff,” he said slowly, ‘you don’t suppose I’m fool enough to hand out two thousand dollars without consulting a lawyer of my own, do you? As for your client’s needs, I just left his wages at his house. His family would have had to live on that this week anyhow. And he is in the hospital. I’m going away on business. I can’t attend to this until—”’ THE ARGOSY. “T think I can take the responsibility for settling for a little less, Mr. Orton,” the un- prepossessing little attorney interrupted hastily. “I have been at pains to explain to Mr. Jackson the expense of carrying the matter into court. It can hardly be neces- sary for me to tell you that we should sue for at least five times the amount I have already mentioned. But I will accept fif- teen hundred and give you full receipt and acquittance, if—” ‘““T won’t do it,” Orton snapped. ‘I’m willing to see Mr. Jackson and per- suade him to accept a thousand. I can be back in an hour,” went on the little lawyer. “You needn’t. I won’t be here,” Orton retorted; and added, “I have no further time for discussing the matter now.”’ “Oh, you needn’t put on such high and mighty airs,’ blustered the other. “Not with me, sir. I’m more than willing to take this case into the courts. I’m only trying to save you from—” “Quit it. Good afternoon,” Orton snarled. He was thoroughly angry with the fellow’s manner. He had been getting into the habit of growing angry easily these days. “Youll be sorry for this,” Mr. Grabstoff snarled over his shoulder, as he caught the glint in Hardy’s eyes and made a hasty exit. Yes, Orton would be sorry, he told him- self. He would be sorry, if this hindered his other creditors from getting their just dues. His last thought of sorrow for Jack- son’s fate had been dissipated. Then he shrugged his shoulders. It would take time to get Jackson’s case into the courts. Probably it would take long enough to settle up the case in bankruptcy. If it didn’t—well, it wasn’t his fault. They would be better off than if he held on until Jackson got away with a suit for ten thou- sand. Once more he turned his eyes forward with the gleam of renewed hope in them. In another week, or less, he would, of course, be connecting up with some job. But work without worry would be play after what he had been through. “Why, Orton,’ Arlene exclaimed, when he walked in on her; “how well you’re look- ing. I was afraid this week would pull you down completely. Business must have picked up. “Y’m through with business, Arlene,’ he announced. “At least, I’m through with at- COPMICGLOOOKS (C@)