The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

THE GILDED TRAP. Both’ seemed a bit reticent about it, though they had not hesitated to tell him on what was really but very slight ac- quaintance. Their previous relations with him hardly constituted acquaintance at all. What had he to be afraid of? Why was he afraid? What ailed him, anyhow, that he must go up in the air over every little thing? He had gone half crazy over that lost check, and there had been no excuse for worrying at all. Last night he had been silly enough to get worried about the chauffeur of a taxicab, and it had turned out all right. And now— But he did wish that check had not taken this route home. Travis came back from lunch. Bruce went out. He decided to feed himself a decent meal. He went to the café at which he had lunched with Wheelock. Just inside the door a dozen men were leaning over each other’s shoulders in an effort to see the tape of the little ticker that stood there. ‘A hundred and three,” one of them whispered, in a tone that might well have answered for funeral use. “Good Lord!” the other gasped, shak- ing his head sagely. ‘““Here she comes again, up called out to those behind. and three and a half.” ‘Holy mackerel!” shouted a gray- haired, wrinkle-cheeked individual. Bruce joined the group. Hating to ap- pear too utterly outside the circle, he re- frained from asking what the soaring stock might be. Since most of the men had limited time for eating, the crowd was a shifting one. Evans had no difficulty in working his way to where he could glimpse the tape. “Here she comes! Here she comes!”’ cried the self-constituted announcer. Bruce peered over his shoulder as the figures rolled into view, and the loud voice lowered a little: “The same. Rotten work—rotten work!”’ “What do you laughed another. ” a man close * Hundred want—the earth?” _ was all right. 299 ‘Ten points at a clip would suit me all right, clear up to.the sky,” the reader re- turned. But Bruce hardly heard him. He had seen the tape and read himself: 200 TUB BRS 103%. He forgot decorum in his haste to get out of the group and to a table. Since the dazing wonder of the results of his stock transaction had lost its sheer fright for him; he had been able to figure out just what had happened in that transaction, even to the question of the interest and commission he had had to pay. Now, on the back of the menu he did some more figuring. The results took away his appetite for the meal he had or- dered. If he had stayed in—if he had held on—if he had kept his hundred and ten shares of Tubular Brass until to-day, right now, instead of being worth a little less than sixteen hundred dollars, he might have but a hundred or so short of seven thousand! What had ailed Wheelock? Why had the cashier told him to get out? Oh, well, a man could not be blamed for wanting another to play safe with money he had loaned for the game. But—a hun- cared and three and a half—almost seven thousand dollars! ‘“* Hello, Wheelock! of it?” Bruce looked up from his figures. He had taken a seat where he could watch the interested crowd around the ticker. The Ironclad’s cashier had just come into the place; another man whose appearance in- dicated about the same degree of pros- perity had greeted him. Wheelock, with an afternoon edition of a newspaper in his hand, pressed through What do you think the crowd for the last-minute information ~ of the ticker. “ Does it mean anything to you?” the — friend inquired in a voice that choked back hurrahs of sheer jubilation. ‘“Oh, I guess it means a town house for next winter all right,”” Wheelock chuckled in a tone as jubilant. “I told you that tip And it’s going higher. I’m NOOKS COMMUG (C@