The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

286 Besides, it would be the worst case yet of effect too big for cause. Wheelock could not care enough to lend him money to steal it for him. Unless— Oh, there was nothing else to it. Wheelock and Mercer had played to “frame” him. It was all another plant. And he had been fool enough to fall into it within a week of last Monday, just be- cause they had smiled on him a few times. They never had liked him. They had shown their dislike, until he had scared them about kotowing to the influence of Mercer’s uncle. No, it hadn’t been that at all. Whee- lock and Mercer had been tampering with old Wilbridge’s account; they believed he had detected it—and they had got rid of him. To-morrow they would be waiting for * him. To-morrow—Bruce suddenly shrank from the eye of a passing policeman. What could he prove? What weight would his words have? He and Wheelock alone knew of the check. His word against Wheelock’s! He tried to draw some reassurance from the fact that Wheelock was Jessie’s father. But his distraught mind refused to find the comfort. Jessie was beautiful, won- derful, fascinating—then he _ instantly doubted all beautiful, fascinating women. There was only one kind of woman in the world. It was Ellen’s kind—plain, simple, reliable, good. He suddenly desired to see Ellen as he had never done before. And he dared not go to her. He could not tell her what had happened. He walked all the way up-town to his boarding-place. He had used next to the last car-fare this morning, anyhow. The walking tired him. He dropped into a chair, got up and threw himself on the bed, got up from there— Merciful Heaven! What should he do with himself? He felt he would go insane before morning. Perhaps it would be as well. Insanity was no disgrace. An asy- Jum could hardly be as bad as a prison. o> THE ARGOSY. If he might only die! He wished he had not been brought up with quite so much religious training as made him a little more afraid to kill himself than to live. The dinner hour came. The thought of food nauseated him. Yet he feared to attract attention by staying away from the table. He wondered if his looks would not attract more attention than his absence. But he went down to the dining-room and his cheap dinner. He tried to eat. He said he had a headache—and he was far, far within the truth. He might have added heartache, backache, and ache in his overtired limbs; for he had given up trying to sit or lie still, and walked a mile or two more in his room. Utterly tired after two hours more of fioor-pacing, he undressed and got into bed. He hoped that his weariness might bring sleep in spite of his worry. It was too much to hope for. He tossed about, got up and took a drink of water, returned, got up again. The mad- dening minutes would not hurry. When the night seemed to have become already interminable, he struck a match, and his old silver watch told him it was not yet quite ten oclock. A grown-up newsboy came through the streets in the old-time effort to hawk his left-over papers as special extras. “ All about the U-boat explosion,” he squawked raucously. Bruce got up hastily. If he but had a paper to read! But he could not go down the boarding-house stairs to the door in his night-gown. He did not own a bath- robe. The paper would have told him about Tubular Brass’s last selling price. He had lost interest in that. He would have given advance salary for a year if he had never had any money to put into the thing. He might win, might at least draw out what he had put in, and make good the deficit at the bank. It would only make matters worse, he decided. Adams had COMMICOO® Cc S (C@