Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

800 agreement may be dissolved either by mu- tual consent or at the will of the first sig- natory alone. And the first signatory to ‘this contract agrees to maintain the second ‘signatory in a station in life commensurate with that of a gentleman of wealth irre- spective of expense, and further to pay to the second signatory as a stated salary the sum of one thousand dollars a month.” He looked up. “ Shall I sign?” ‘Body and soul,’ murmured the young man. He appeared to be fascinated with the restless movement of the quill toothpick in the other’s mouth. ‘“ Have you another toothpick you could let me have?” he in- quired casually. i The tall man mechanically thrust hts fingers into his vest pocket; and then, as though but stiddenly struck with the irrele- vancy, and perhaps facetiousness of the re- quest, frowned as he found himself hand- ing over the article in question. ‘Shall I sign?” His tone was sterner. “It is understood that the signatures are to be bona fide and—”’ “Yes, sign it. It is quite understood.” The young man spoke without looking up. He seemed to be engrossed in carefully slitting the point of the quill toothpick he had acquired with his knife. The other signed both sheets from the notebook. ‘The young man accepted the two slips, of paper, but’ refused the proffered fountain pen. In the moonlight he read the other’s signature: Urlin P. Neyret. His lips tight- ened a little. It was a big name in San Francisco, a name of power. Few dreamed perhaps where the sinews of that power came from! He drew from his pocket a Their CHAPTER J]. ALADDIN’S LAMP. OHN BRUCE, stretched at full Jength J on a luxurious divan in the most sump- tuous apartment of the Bayne-Miloy, New York’s newest and most pretentious hostelry, rose suddenly to his feet and switched off the lights. The same impulse carried him in a few strides to the window. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. small bottle, uncorked it, dipped in the quill toothpick, and with his improvised pen wrote with a rasping, spluttering noise beneath the other’s signature on each of the two slips of paper. One of these slips he returned to the other—but beneath the tall man’s signature there was no mark of any kind whatever. Through narrowing eyes the tall man had been watching, and how his face dark- ened ominously, and there was something of deadly coolness in his voice as he spoke. ‘What tomfoolery is this?” he demand- ed evenly. “No; it’s quite all right,” said the young man placidly. “ Just a whim of mine. I can’t seem to get that Doctor Faustus thing out of my head. According to the story, I think, he signed in a drop of blood—and I thought I’d carry a sort of analogy along a bit. That stuff’s all right. I got it from my old native friend on that island I was telling you about. It’s what my letter of introduction to Nanu was written with. And—well, at least, I guess jit stands for the drop of blood, all right! Take it down there to the shore and dip that part of the paper in the salt water.” The tall man made no answer. For a moment he remained staring with grim-set features at the other, then he got up, walked sharply to the water’s edge, and, bending down, moistened the lower portion of the paper. He held it up to the moon- light. Heavy black letters were slowly tak- ing form just beneath his own signature. Presently he walked back up the beach to the young man, and held out his hand. ‘Let us get back to the ship—John Bruce,” he said. Story The night was still, and the moon rode high and full. It was the same moon that, three months ago, he had stared at from the flat of his back on the beach at Apia. A smile, curiously tight, and yet curiously whimsical, touched his lips. If it had been ‘‘moon-madness ” that had fallen upon the gambler king and himself that night, it had been a medness that was strangely free in its development from helucipationinc ao