The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

FROM DUSK TO DARK. “Morris is an engineer, not a rancher,” Brink hastily mentioned. © “Tm afraid I’m no Wild-West-Show cow- boy,” Ballard laughed. ‘But I can keep my seat on an ordinary tame horse.”’ What of the art he knew he had acquired on visits to his grandfather’s farm in north Jersey. “We'll give him old Prince,” his host proposed. ‘Will ten o’clock be too early?” asked the girl. ® Morris hesitated. Should he risk an ex- hibit of his very limited equestrian abili- ties? “Oh,” Brink struck in, “Florence won’t mind your having a blue chin. She'll take you through the Park. I’ve just convinced Morris that, if he wants to make this town think he’s really a big man, he should grow a beard.”’ “Oh, how lovely,” the girl exclaimed mis- chievously. ‘I’ve never seen a beard in the making.” Yet still her eyes failed of reflecting the mischief in her voice. No sooner had she gone than Brink turned on Morris with a smile of genuine approbation and some self-congratulation. “Well, my boy, I rather think we’ve put you across a little. And you didn’t dg more than half badly, considering how little of it I’d had a chance to let you in on. A little more pep wouldn’t hurt.” “T couldn’t take too big chances of giving away the fraud,” Morris apologized. “Well, I think we’ll keep to about that yarn all the way around. We won’t have to risk too much definiteness. Ill vouch for you with the men who'll hand you the busi- ness. A big construction company has to have quite a lot of business, you know.” “I’m not sure that I'll know enough to make a lot of business pay,” Morris con- fessed. “T'll do the paying. You'll be surprised at how little of it there’ll be even at that. Not every man can make a big business; but there are lots of them who can keep one going, men who are merely making a clerk’s wages because they never had some other fellow’s chance. Big interests make big men. I shall have some incorporation papers for you to sign to-morrow afternoon. We’ll get you launched as quickly as possible. “Sorry, I couldn’t have managed to take you to a concert or something this evening. You won’t have much chance to go out un- 507 til those whiskers grow. Meanwhile we'll get you established in some swell quarters befitting a bachelor of real wealth. “T’m going to wish you good night now. I hope the slavery doesn’t look quite so ter- rible as to prevent your getting a little more sleep than you had last night. Really— you're not facing the worst thing in the world—eh?” He gave a searching glance into Morris’s face; but did not wait for an answer. Mor- ris got up and went to the elevator and so to his room. The evening had dazed him. Mostly be- cause the change had been forced upon him, he had been unable to tolerate the thought of it. Now came the reaction. Not the worst thing in the world to hap- pen to a man—certainly not quite. He realized that he was a bit dazzled as well as dazed. After all, this regal life of luxurious splendor had its charms; after all few men would count as misfortune the sudden op- portunity to join the foremost ranks in a highly commercial profession; after all— A knock came to his door. Colonel Brink entered. ‘Pardon me, Morris—I meant to speak of it before. It appears that your friends, the Rainsfords, were not wholly satisfied with your telephone message last night. I have ascertained that they have been trying —without much success—to interest the po- lice further in locating you. “T think, perhaps, it will be well for you to write Miss Rainsford something to the effect that you are quite satisfied with pres- ent conditions and desirous of being left alone to work out your new destiny. No clue to your whereabouts, you understand— you might say your disappointment in the lady’s failure to requite your love had caused you to go away. You don’t mind doing this, do you?” Veiled under the query was the old threat. Morris nodded: “T suppose [’ll have to do it anyhow,” he said. : “{ thought you would. Let. me assure you that I shall not censor the letter. I have no desire to be unnecessarily unpleasant. And I think you are getting past the need of warnings.” The colonel paused an instant, looked earnestly at Morris, then suddenly burst -forth with: “Oh, I don’t want to make you do this. I want you to do it because you wish it your- CORMICLOOOKS (C@)