Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

566 “Mr. Harley?” he cried. ‘‘ Come right in, Mr. Harley. Mr. Wicks is expecting you!” Seven less. fortunate mortals, ranged along the far wall in deep chairs, gazed enviously at him as he passed. This, as happens so frequently, was because they did not know. Gladly, even thankfully, would Mr. Harley have exchanged places with the gentleman at the foot of the line; he wanted more time to think, to plan in- telligently the very difficult approach to a very difficult matter, to devise certain artful little remarks that would lead to— Well, he had passed the two anterooms, had he not? And the beetle-browed young woman was dancing lightly, even gayly, ahead of him; and now she was opening the fateful door in the small jog at the left. The nightmare atmosphere he had known yes- terday once more enshrouded Mr. Harley; he too moved on—and there was Thurlow Wicks himself, just rising from behind his desk. , “Well, Jack!” he cried heartily, and held out a great hand. Mr. Harley shook it dizzily. “ How—de do?” said he. “‘ Chair!” barked the magnate, indicating one. Into it Mr. Harley dropped quite me- chanically. “‘ Here at last, are you?” said Mr. Wicks, and lumbered cheerfully into his own seat. “ Hardly expected to see me again as soon as all this, eh? Just happened that two of the men I meant to go after turned up in Boston last evening, and we had everything cleared away before ten o’clock. Got out on the midnight train, fortunately, and now i’m—hback to business.” , He beamed. He even rubbed his hands, which was something John had never seen -him do before. Mr. Harley’s spirits stirred quite suddenly and began to rise. Why, he was no more than a complete fool to be sit- ting here and quaking internally like this! In all his life Thurlow Wicks probably had never been in a better or a more approach- able humor than at this minute. Mr. Har- ley hitched to a more upright position and managed a normal smile. ‘Glad to—er—be back?” he hazarded. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Always! York for business, Jack. Have to get to one of the other cities now and then and see their methods to appreciate that. No place in the world like it for turning over the faithful little dollar. That’s my whole life, you know.” “And a very—” “Your life now, too, that you’re coming into the family,” Mr. Wicks said. “I'll have to—oh, that reminds me. Got your check book with you, Jack?” John Harley’s hand went mechanically to the bulge in his upper coat pocket. “Why, yes,” said he. “Fine! Best earmark of a born finan- cier, that!” Mr. Wicks chuckled richly. ‘“‘ Fountain pen right there in the rack. Sit down and make me out your check for sixty thousand dollars!” CHAPTER X. PROFIT AND LOSS. N the other offices there was no sound of screaming or of running feet. Neither were similar manifestations rising from the street, not so many stories below. And this was odd indeed, because to the best of Mr. Harley’s belief, the entire building had bounced a foot or so into the air, and even -no\,, after ten seconds, had not quite settled on its foundations again. “ What—what did you say?” he asked faintly. : “Sixty thousand, Jack!” “ But—but—” Mr. Wicks ceased his smiling and leaned over the desk, shaking a finger at John. “Listen to me, kid!” he said. ‘‘ Here’s your very first lesson in big business: when a man mentions a reasonably large sum of money, look at him stonily—always. Don’t look as if you’d been hit with a club, Jack. You’re doing that now.” ** T—it’s no wonder—”’ “No, I understand that. You’re not quite used to money yet, my boy. You'll get used to it very speedily, though, and meanwhile remember that first lesson. You and I are going to turn over some pretty big things before we’re through.” COPNICLOOOKS There’s no town like New (E@)