Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

2 RAE 264 case that the boys and their Frankenstein monster were forgotten for a month or so. Then, one Sunday, Harlowe called me up and asked me to go with him to Gleason’s place. We went and found that Tom Jervis had gone to New York. Harlowe began to worry, for in spite of his share in the profits he was still about seventy-five thousand dollars short of the one hundred thousand dollars which the parents of the fair Annabel expected as a proof that Dick could support a Mrs. Har- lowe in the style to which she was accus- tomed. Good money was coming in, but it had to be divided among eight fellows, and Dick was naturally anxious that Seumas Shayne should last as a trade mark till the goal of six figures was in sight. “What the devil is he doing in New York?” Dick asked in considerable excite- ment. * How should I know?” demanded Ben. “He goes there about three evenings a week.” “The more fool you to let him go.” “Ts that so?” said Ben. “ Well, you stay down here and prevent it if you like. What do you expect me to do, chloroform him and chain him in the cellar? Maybe you think I ought to get him down and sit on his head. He weighs only about a hun- dred pounds more than I do. Please re- member that I’m a piano player, not a Terrible Turk.” “ But it isn’t safe for him to be wander- ing around New York.” “Maybe it isn’t; but it’s a darned sight safer than it would be for me to try to hold him. Gosh! Have you ever seen his arms? Besides,” Ben went on, “ he’s such an all- fired fine chap, when you get to know him, he ought to be allowed.to do as he likes, especially as he’s going to do it anyway.” “ Dick is right,’ I said; “if anyone rec- ognizes him from the pictures in the Bulletin or the painting in the art exhibition, good night, Seumas!” “T don’t care a hang about that,’”’ Ben admitted. ‘I’m sick of having a guy that doesn’t exist get the credit for my music.” “ Where does he go in New York, to the the theatres?” Dick asked. “No; he calls on a young lady.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Under the name of Seumas Shayne?” ““{ suppose so.” “Who is she?” “ How should I know?” inquired Ben peevishly. ‘‘ Probably some girl who ad- mires him because she thinks he is the composer of my songs.” I knew perfectly well that the girl was Leila Landon, and I understood then and there why Tom Jervis had refused to carry out his agreement and go to Europe. As I had seen her, I could not blame him for falling in love with her, especially if she had looked at him in the way I had seen her look at his portrait in the art gallery. And she had probably done that very thing. When I informed him that Leila was an heiress, he had been discouraged and had decided that he had better go to Europe and forget her; but had changed his mind when her eyes revealed to him that he had a chance. “Look here, Ben,” said Harlowe, “ haven’t you told him how dangerous it is for him to be seen around New York, not only for us but for his job here?” ‘““' Why, yes,” Ben replied, “ I’ve told him all that; but he says he doesn’t go about much in town and is not likely to be seen. He just calls on this girl. It seems she is crazy about music. To-night he is taking her to a Philharmonic concert.” T could not help wondering whether Leila Landon talked high-brow music to Tom and what words the supposed composer of “‘ The Hero ” would find to disguise his thoughts. Of course he had the repertoire of opinions and musical terms that we had provided for him in the Bulletin interview; but if Miss Landon knew anything about music, Tom was apt to get into trouble. As far as he knew, Chaminade was a salad and Stravinsky some kind of fur. “It listens very risky to me,” said Har- lowe. ‘I’m going to stay here till he comes home. I intend to have a serious talk with him.” Ben gave us to understand that he would be medium delighted to put us up for the night, so the three of us played dummy bridge all the evening. At about midnight we heard Tom Jervis’s footsteps on the veranda and presently he appeared. His Gomichooks (E@)