The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

~ another. 148 rumblings came faintly, he secmed not even to hear them now. Morely tapped his shoulder. “Cheer up,” he said. “Of course it can be done. You’ve got money enough to live on for years, even if you had to hide that long. You can go to Cuba or—” “Tommy,” the chairman of the Ameri- can Committee sighed, “do you realize that, just on the other side of that door, lies the side hallway of this building? Do you quite understand that as soon as it dawns on somebody that they can get in this way, I’m going to be mobbed?” Morely laughed a little. “They’re not wise to that yet, anyway,” he said. “I’ve had the men tell them that there’s an L in here and that your private office is on the other side of the building, Jim. I’m not so much worried about that; we'll get you out one way or It’s what you’re going to do then. You might skip to Rio.” “Brazile” “Of course. One of the Pan-American liners leaves for there at seven; I happen to know that because I looked up the mails yesterday when I was writing to Chesborough, down in Rio,” the artist said thoughtfully. ‘See here, Jimmy. Suppose I go down to the pier and get a stateroom for you and have them ready to hide you the second you go aboard? I can fix that, if you’ll give me a couple of hun- dred.”’ The chairman of the American Commit- tee looked at him without interest, shrugged his shoulders and, finally, tossed his bulging wallet to the desk. “Try it if you want to, old man,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a chance in a thousand of making it, and I don’t care much whether there is or not, but you’re better off with that roll than I.” “JT don’t want to take all of it.” “T want you to—that’s only the eighty thousand, anyway,” sighed Jimmy. “And Tommy!”’ (Veg ?” ; “Tf anything untoward should happen to me—something will, but I'll put it that THE ARGOSY. way to spare your feelings—if something should happen to me, I want you to keep that wad. It’s all yours, old man.” Rat?’ “Salt it away somewhere until you see just the right chance for investment, and then use it to provide for your old age,” Darton went on mournfully, with one hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘“‘And just re- member one thing, Tommy; if ever you feel yourself falling in love with anything in skirts, sit down in a secluded spot and eat a full can of rat poison. Will you promise that?” He looked earnestly at his friend, yet his friend merely delivered a sharp slap on the crown of Darton’s head and picked up his hat and coat. “Forget it!” said he, quite unfeelingly. “Three years from now you'll be in a hammock in the patio, smoking a cigar a foot long and wondering why the little black-haired twins beside the fountain look so much like their mother. And stay in here, Jimmy; you can’t get out, anyway, because I’ve given orders to have you kept here.” Plainly a cynic, he slid into his coat and opened the side door of the office cau- tiously; only a minute or two back, steps had been tramping up and down that cor- ridor—steps that had strayed from the overflow meeting in the main corridor out- side Darton’s door—but luck was with Morely at the moment. He listened and glanced out carefully; then he slipped out and the heavy spring latch clicked behind him. Darton was quite alone, with the awful penalty of his madness surging and growl- ing not fifty feet away. Head in his hands, he sat and began to think. CHAPTER XII. THE FINAL CALLER. [fORELY returned so suddenly that the door had closed behind him almost as his key clicked on the outer side! He was flushed and breathless and his COMMICLO® S (C@)