The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

THE GILDED TRAP. Evans’s expression was solely of won- der. “Tm afraid I’ve been a little too severe some of the time.’”’ Wheelock suddenly became apologetic. “You understand that things are not just a8 they should be—I’ve had a lot of worry. Business is all mixed up—the war has set all sorts of fly-by-night schemes going after the long depression, and—perhaps I’ve made some mistakes in some—of the people I’ve trusted.” Why in the dickens did the man stare that way? Evans suddenly felt a glim- mer of sympathy for the tired look in those searching eyes. “Tl tell you,” Wheelock seemed to teach a determination. ‘‘ There’s a widow up in my town keeps a nice little summer boarding-house. How much have you been sparing to feed yourself with—your board, I mean?” ““ Five. dollars a week,” Bruce confided. “All right. Your car-fare will be double. We'll call it four. Ill tell you what I’m going to do. I believe we can make things enough lighter here for the present so that you can stand them, if you’ve only the right sort of environment and decent grub outside. You can pay Mrs. Breen just four dollars, and I'll make up the difference until you’re better on your feet again.” Evans could not believe his ears. Was this Wheelock? Was he Bruce Evans? What had happened? Then something reminded him of the things some of the papers had to say about charities: for the poor instead of just wages. “T could not do that, Mr. Wheelock,” he said. “ Why not?” “T couldn’t pay you back,’ Evans ex- plained. And Wheelock searched him again with those tired eyes. Once he got back the old ugly look for a second; then this dis- appeared. | “You'll pay me back—in better work,” he*urged. This was as inexplicable as everything 69 else ‘about the man’s changed manner. Evans was ndét working for the cashier. The cashier really profited and lost noth- ing by his work one way or the other. Wheelock was a salaried officer, not a director. ‘You won’t do it?” Wheelock asked. “T’d rather not do anything I can’t pay for myself,’ Evans replied. ‘“Um-m-m-m,” the cashier hummed a second time. ‘Then he broached a new idea. “ Well, I don’t blame you for that,” he said, though his eyes were still trying to read through Bruce’s brain. “ But, for the sake of the bank, you’ve got to do something. Tell you what. I haven’t time to think or talk about it now. You come up with me to dinner to-night. “Never mind about dress—we dont dress half the time, anyhow. Just as you are. Ill take yow for a little spin and show you a bit of God’s country. You can’t refuse a straight invitation like that, old man. ‘“T won’t take no for an answer. Now, give those letters to Jackson, out there, and don’t try to kill yourself over the books to-day. When you're feeling a lit- tle better you'll easily make up if they run behind a trifle. Somé of those other loafers out there can take some of your work. Send me Mercer.” He pressed a button on his desk as he spoke. Evans did not need to send the head bookkeeper. He had finished taking the envelopes to Jackson, and was taking down the ledgers, his mind still whirling in dazed wonder, when Mercer came back. “Sorry I laughed when I did, old sport,” Mercer spoke almost affectionate- ly. “As a matter of fact, something happened to remind me of a joke I heard at a show Saturday night. Now, Ill tell you what we’re going to do. You’re to let Travis take all the R to V books, and you just run the W to Z until next fall. ‘““T didn’t really notice that you were getting so run down. I’m a hell of a dub, anyhow. But don’t hold a grudge. There’s COPMICLOOOKS (EO)