Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 2, 1922 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

KAIN., the cane and the flower caught the eye, and something in his manner drew eyes after him. He might have been a tourist inter- ested in every detail of men and manners, for as he sauntered on he let his eye dwell on each passing face and vehicle. It was on the afternoon of the third day as he walked through Albemarle Park, at that hour filled with the carriages and horses and automobiles of the fashionables, a com- bination of parade and review, when he saw a span of splendid grays drawing a low, open carriage. In it were Robert Stanley Raeburn and a woman of marked beauty. Kain reduced his pace to a yet more casual and strolling gait; at the same time he commenced to whistle and swung the yellow cane until it flashed in the sun. An instant later there was a loud halloo beside him, and Kain halted, resting on his stick. Raeburn was leaning from the carriage, call- ing and beckoning to him. As he ap- proached, Raeburn murmured something to his companion, at which she smiled frankly upon Kain. He regarded them quizzically. “What!” cried Raeburn. ‘“ Have you forgotten me?”’ “7 am very sorry,” said Kain gravely. “Come, come! Remember Mr. X and the walk up the hill?” “‘ By Jove,” cried Kain. “ The butler!” And then checking himself in obvious em- barrassment he smiled apologetically. The two burst into laughter. “The very same,” agreed Raeburn. “ Tutor or butler—I forget which it was at the end. Mr. Z, I have told Mrs. Charles Stirling about you, and she is anxious to know you better.” “Very anxious, indeed,” she said, her voice still a little shaken with laughter. “In the meantime we’re holding up all man- ner of traffic. Won’t you join us for a drive?” “Thank you,” said Kain. “It will be embarrassing, but you see that I have cour- age.’’ And he stepped into the carriage and took the opposite seat, his hands folded over the top of his stick. “In broad day- light, Mrs. Stirling, my name is John Kain.” ‘And this is Robert Stanley Raeburn,” she answered, and leaned back in her seat a little, waiting. 495 “Robert Stanley—” repeated Kain in amazement, and then his face lighted with understanding. “ After all, Mr. Raeburn,” he said, “whom will people laugh with— you or me?”’ “ They’ve been laughing af me ever since I’ve told of my adventure,” said Raeburn, ‘and even Stirling joined in and calls me the butler. Ill wager, his first good laugh in six months, Annette?” “Oh, longer than that,” she answered. “Much longer! Mr. Kain, won’t you let me carry you away for tea?” “Thank you,” said Kain, “I’m hungry. Besides, I must think up apologies.” “Please, no!” cried Mrs. Stirling. “ It’s the only real adventure Mr. Raeburn has ever had off the street. And he’s as vain as a peacock over it. Aren’t you, Bob?” “* Apologies?”’ queried Raeburn. “ Why, sir, apologies would dull the edge of the affair. But I wonder at finding a man who flies from ennui promenading in Albemarle Park at this hour?” “ Ah,” replied Kain, “ you must not for- get that Mr. Z named himself a student.” “No, Ill never forget any detail of Mr. Z. But what on earth do you study in Albemarle Park?” ** Means of escape from that same ennui,” answered Kain. “Can these people really teach you how to escape?” said Raeburn, gesturing to the crowd about them, before and behind. “ach one teaches me something,” said Kain. ‘“ Your coachman, for instance, is scorning every plebeian automobile he passes; he winks at them with one eye and admires his grays with the other. And yet that little withered man just passing us in his limousine is wondering at the young fools who leave themselves open to the raw air. There’s a fellow whose daughters have told him that he looks well on horseback. See how he tucks his chin in and holds his crop just so, yet he daren’t move his nag out of that soft trot for fear of bouncing. Look at the girl and man in the roadster. He'll wreck his car if he keeps up that snake course much longer. They would pity us all if they are able to so much as see us, which I doubt. I'll wager, Mrs. Stirling, that they are holding hands on the inside.” Gomichbooks.com