The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

530 “Our camera,” he grinned. ‘Like it?” Grayson laughed. There was something irresistible about Burton. “Go back to bed,” advised the self: -ap- pointed director. “After I paint it black T’ll call you.” “No, I’m up for good. Perhaps } you had better let me help you.” Burton shook his head. “You know the story about too many cooks.” Grayson left the window to dress. He felt in gay spirits. Burton’s plan had taken hold of him. It would surely be a lark and possibly a romance. A knock came on the door. Grayson threw it open to find Hadley, a frightened look on his face. “T thought it best to tell you, sir. Mr. Burton took your large oaken box, sir, the one you keep cigars in, and he has been hammering nails into it all morning, sir.” Grayson smiled. “That’s all right, Hadley, never mind.” “But he wants the handle off the victrola now, sir, and when I tried to explain that you needed it, he said he wouldn’t let me be his star operator, sir, whatever he means by that.” Grayson was beginning to enjoy the situ- ation. “Tet him have that, too, Hadley. Per- haps we’ll get it back if we’re lucky.” The butler disappeared. Grayson shook his head. Burton was a genius for orig- inality. Down-stairs in the foyer hall Grayson met the excited Hadley again. “He wants some of the washers off the plumbing, sir. He says it would not look like the real thing without some brass or tin on it, sir. You’d better stop him, sir,” beseeched the butler, ‘before he breaks up the house.” “Can you get the washers, Hadley?” “T can take some off, Mr. Grayson, but it will ruin the plumbing.” “All right, do it.” Hadley looked at his master. Like Bur- ton, he, too, seemed half mad. The fun that Hadley had anticipated seemed to be developing into the breaking up of the cot- tage. Outside Grayson came upon Burton smoking a cigarette. Beside him on the ground in the full rays of the sun stood a peculiar looking dark box, freshly painted, with a handle projecting from the side. THE ARGOSY. “My cigar box,” laughed Grayson. “The same,” rejoined Burton, ‘“‘only dis- guised. Hadley, I’m afraid, imagines I’ve gone mad. Before you came down he was watching me like a hawk.” “You “have not told him, then?” Burton winked. ‘Not yet. Before we leave I'll give him final instructions. It will be simple. His will be a thinking part.” Hadley came from the house with several washers which he handed to Grayson, who in turn gave them to Burton. Without a word Tommy selected several tacks and proceeded to hammer the wash- ers on to the box, while the butler looked on with an air of astonishment. Finishing the job, Burton gianced up. “By the way, Bob,” he asked, “have you a camera lense and a tripod?” Grayson nodded. “Then we’re all right. The job’s through and the paint on the box will be dry in the course of a few hours.”’ Grayson smiled. ‘Where did you get your plan for the thing, Tommy?” he asked. ‘“T saw a moving-picture machine once,” Burton grinned. ‘Big memory, great head. Come on, let’s have breakfast.” III. Four hours later, after the two friends had lunched, Burton called Hadley into the room. The butler knew that the time had now come when he was to be enlight- ened on the mysterious proceedings of the forenoon. “Hadley,” began Burton, “with Mr. Grayson’s consent you will do something for me. If you do it well a ten dollar bill will pass from my hand into yours.” Hadley smiled. “Tf you bungle the job,” continued Bur- ton, “may your sin be forgiven.” Hadley looked perplexed, but waited for further orders. “In one hour from now, Hadley, you will be ready dressed in a sack-suit and a cap. You will carry a camera tripod and that box you saw which looks like a cross between a moving picture machine and a combination of household utilities.” The language was too deep for Hadley, but he took it for granted that Burton was right. “That is all, Hadley. you final instructions.” Later I will give EOPMICLOOKS (E@)