The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

52 “Why should he want to get away from you?” “ That’s what I was trying to find out when he went through your back door, doctor. He started to run at the sight of me and he went over two lawns—” “Oh, lift your lid, officer—lft your lid!” the unaltered Poldhane said disgust- edly. ‘ You’re boiling over! Why, this gentleman’s one of the oldest friends I’ve got! I suppose he didn’t want to wake the house by ringing at this hour and thought he’d come in this way. What, Jim?” Mentally, James Bowen had surrend- ered to inscrutable fate. Forces beyond his understanding were making sport of him to-night; out of one hundred thousand dwellings or thereabouts, he had dived into the dark and selected Polly Whinnys home again. But the fact that, for a little time, he was safe, that Polly was the same friendly, helpful soul, did not at all pass his understanding, and in the most frigidly impressive way Dr. Bowen con- trived to face the officer as he said: “Dr. Whinnys has said it all, I think. I had no—er—idea of kicking up an ex- citement, you know.” Slowly, the policeman looked him over, taking in every detail of him. Dr. Bowen barely concealed the shudder. The po- liceman nodded briefly to Polly Whinnys. “All right, doctor; you’ll have to—ex- cuse he,” he said. “‘ Only it looked funny, the way he ducked through Paisley’s place and yours at this time of the morning.” The old, boisterous laugh boomed through the kitchen. “IT guess you’re a good and faithful cop, anyway, even if you are crazy,” said its owner. ‘“‘ Have a cigar—here! No, take the bunch of them. Don’t stick ’em in your hat and smash ’em, either; those are real ones!”’ And now the officer had gone and Dr. Whinnys, turning the key this time on his outer door, was returning to his old- time friend. “Why, Jimmy,” said he, “ you’re a sight! Were you running?”’ THE ARGOSY. cc I—-yes.”’ ‘Well, I’m glad you had sense enough to come back here, anyway, no matter what time it was,” Polly rambled on, slip- ping an arm through Dr. Jim’s and leading him to the stairs and up them to the beau- tiful, brightly lighted office. ‘‘ You know, I haven’t been home more than half an hour myself. I found the girl’s memo when I came in, and I could have kicked myself for not being here, old man. You didn’t leave any address, and I was just wondering how I could catch you. What was that Catterson call? I never heard of him.” “ That—call—”’ Dr. Jim began, with real difficulty. “To the dickens with it, anyway!” Polly hurtled on. ‘I don’t need him for a patient, whoever he is. I’m going to cuit the game.” ‘Quit medicine?” Dr. Bowen cried. “Chuck it as quick as a monkey chucks a red-hot penny! Say, listen, Jim! You're staying here with me as leng as you’re in town. I'll send my darky after your stuff so that it will be here when you get up, wherever it is now —do him good to work, Jim. Yeppy! A month from now there ’ll be no more Old Doc Whinnys in Flatbush.” ‘“ But—it looks as if you had a good practise, Polly?” Dr. Jim said weakly. “Good? It’s elegant!” Dr. Whinnys informed him, with his wide and artless smile. “I tuck away eight or nine thou- sand dollars a year down here, after all ex- penses are paid, and if I knew as much about medicine as you do, I’d bunk ’em for another five thousand and hire a helper.” Dr. Jim leaned back-in his chair and sighed wonderingly. He was the same old Polly—without a grain of selfishness, yet tremendously, vitally interested in everything that concerned himself and the immediate moment. He had cocked his patent-leather feet on the desk now and lighted a cigar after pushing the box toward Dr. Bowen, and he radiated happiness, contentment, pros- COPMICGLOOOKS Co