The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

TWELVE A WEEK SHORT. Well, this was the only way to do with it. But he started a prayer, as Eleanor had suggested; then cut it off abruptly. He couldn’t pray about gambling with other people’s money. But Armor Plate jumped four points within half an hour. Uncle Charlie had got his nephew-in-law a narrower margin than most brokers would even consider in these days. The four points meant a thousand of the five won for Arthur. Four points more—six—seven—eight— It was coming. Arthur began to wonder if Providence might not be making some allowances and listening to Eleanor’s pray- ers after all. Then a drop. Arthur held his breath. Five hundred gone. A fractional rise again —a whole point up once more. He was praying in spite of himself. Surely Heaven could not let him lose. A wonderful market! Seldom indeed have there been such phenomenal jumps and tumbles as these war brides and war babies have provided for the mirthful gam- blers who, in spite of past warnings, in spite of past lessons, come back for more— and are born every minute. Jumps of two points and three—even of ten with a single sale; and yet heavier drops! No wonder brokers want big mar- gins. And suddenly Armor Plate began to slide back, Back—back— From forty and a half to thirty-five and three-quarters at a single bound. Why— It had bitten into his five thousand—the five thousand he did not own. And an- other point down—and another—and— Good God! He was losing it! And it was not his. Suddenly he knew he had a conscience. Yesterday he had feared to risk home, com- fort, connubial happiness. ‘The certainty of these had been more precious than any merely probable millions. But what was he playing in the pot to-day? Those same things—and one more—— His honor! Most consciences waken easily when they discover that the profits of evil are in flight. Now that it seemed he would neither return the money nor have it, he could face the quality of what he was do- ing. Gambling with the money of others! Losing it! thing 469 The police would probably never dis- cover that he had had any of Bob Whit- lock’s stealings. Eleanor would never be able to accuse him of his looseness with honor. He doubted if he would dare face her, were he to take the remnant of the money before its chance for winning was gone. But he could never face himself if he didn’t take it. And up at the bank men were surging* and fuming and pressing forward for that and other money like it—money that was theirs, not his. It was hard to conceive how so little as five thodusand—so little as the half of it that was left—could save a bank. But it could save him, the biggest thing he could keep or lose, bigger than reputation or hap- piness or comfort or home or love—his honor. He got up. As he approached the desk, a new quotation was being put beneath the name of the fluttering stock. He did not look at it. More or less, he would take what was left to the place where it be- longed. “Mr. Bannock!” Arthur stopped, startled at the sound of his name. It was the boy who had just answered the ring of the telephone in the ‘booth at one side of the room. ‘Mrs. Bannock wants to speak to you.” He looked at the board. The last record had but announced the sale of more stock at the previous price. He went into the booth. Perhaps he ought to let Eleanor have a say. “Ts that you, Arthur?” “Yes, Eleanor.” “lave you made anything yet?” “Not yet—in fact—” “Arthur, I want you not to try. rather—” “Thank God!” he whispered thickly. “Good-by, darling!” “But it’s going up again,” Uncle Charlie objected. ‘See, it’s on the jump. I tell you it’s got to go to forty-five. You’re too erratic, too fearful to be allowed loose in a game like this. Why—” ‘““How much does it amount to now?” “You'll get back forty-nine hundred and fifty dollars,” Uncle Charlie told him after a moment’s figuring. “Thank God!” Arthur breathed again. ‘T’ve fifty more in the bank yet. Can I get it in cash?” I'd econicbooks (C@)