The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

HIS MAD MOVE ON THE MOVIES. tions as to rent and size were quick and sharp, but this time he chanced to have encountered in the renting agent a gentle- man normally as quick and sharp, who an- swered swiftly, tapped this office or that with his pencil, shot off figures and ex- hibited the form of lease, all with the same machine-gun speed. In the end, Morely gathered, the south side of the forty-fourth floor was to let, at an enormous figure, contained six offices and satisfied Jimmy Darton’s wild mind. At any rate, they were whining up to the skies in a little round elevator car; and now they had walked into beautiful, brilliant offices, where air’ boomed in Morely’s: ears and rivers and bridges showed as toys before his eyes. “This big one’s the reception- room: Vil get four large settees and ten chairs for it. I'll use this one for a sort of.outer anteroom, to meet people I don’t want to let in any farther—rug, flattop desk and chair and three armchairs. These next two I'll use for stenographers—three desks, three chairs, two filing cabinets in each; yes, I’ll have rugs in here, too.’ It looks better. ‘‘Aha! Telephone hasn’t been taken out, yet, eh? You know the telephone people pretty well, Mr. Dixon; can you arrange to have the service on here before two o'clock?” “Yep! ? “Good! Attend to it for me, please. This next room shall be yours, Tommy.” “Mine?” ' gasped the artist. “Yours.” “Say! What in blazes do I want with a room down here, seventeen miles in the air, when I have—” ‘‘And this big fellow in the corner will be my private office,” concluded the chairman of the “American Committee,’ whatever that might be. ‘“Half-past twelve, accord- ing to that clock, eh? I’m going to move in here by three o’clock, Dixon.” Even high-pressure Mr. Dixon could not keep a certain startled quality out of his smile; still: “Everything will be clean and ready for you, sir!” he said, coming up bravely. “Pll pay you three months’ rent now and sign whatever lease you have ready when I get the furniture in; is that satisfactory?” “Tt’s not even necessary, sir. That’ll be an even thousand dollars and—”’ “Here,” said Jimmy Darton, “is the thousand. Now, will you please have the cleaners get at these windows and floors at once?” Dixon fled headlong. Mr. Darton, con- sidering his new and lofty domain with a smile of approval, turned to follow him. Morely, his best friend and most sincere well-wisher, caught both Mr. Darton’s arms and backed him against the fireproof wall with a hard thud! “Now, you back up!” he Commanded, savagely. ‘“What on earth’s the matter with you?” Darton inquired in amazement. ‘“Nothing—except that I’m going to quiet you down this time, if we wrestle out your devilish forty-fourth story window to- gether!” the artist said firmly. ‘“You’ve pulled enough crazy stunts for one day, my boy. Now I’m going to take you home with me—get it ?—straight home! ‘We're going to have Bill Kerrigan come around with the hypodermic he uses for elephants, and pump you full of concen- trated slumber—dope—squirrel antitoxin— whatever it is he uses for cases like yours! Hear me, Jimmy? That’s your card for the rest of the day; now let’s just walk quietly to the elevator.” Darton laughed impatiently. “Forget it, Thomas,” he said, chcontiltie: “’m not going home. I understand, fast enough; you mean well, but—” “I’m going to do well, too, believe me!” went on the artist more soothingly. “Listen, Jim! Just listen, will you? You’re not the chairman of any American Committee. There isn’t any American Committee—just think a minute, Jim; try to think, old man. You know just as well as I do that there isn’t any American Committee. ‘‘And you haven’t got ten million dollars, boy,” said Morely, and despite himself his voice broke a little.. ““You’ve got something over a hundred thousand dollars on you— about one hundred and ten or eleven thou- sand dollars, Jim. Here! Let’s get it out and count it and you can see for yourself; and then we'll take it to the bank and leave it there and then—” Jimmy Darton, glancing at his watch, pushed his friend away unfeelingly, gazed at the concerned frown and then, reluct- antly, relaxed for a minute. “T know what you mean, Tom—you think I’m crazy. Well, I’m not, I assure you. The thing that has happened to me is that my disposition has turned upside down and it is turned for keeps. I’ve always been Commicooalks — 483 Pd €or