Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

Z BIG GAME. 7 7338. r to-night. Instead you don’t have to work; you’ve got good clothes; the-old Lisle Thread National: wouldn’t hold another note without busting a garter, and you’ve got me.’ “You're a good pal, Marie, but—” “ But what?” “ Let’s get out of here. This place makes me sick.” . “ All right, if you feel that way.’ Fritz, call a cab.” “There’s one right outside, Marie.” In the vehicle she looked at Walters with @ queer glint in her eyes. For a few sec- onds she:sat tense, a white line about her mouth. Then just as suddenly she shriveled and, throwing herself back i in the seat, she sobbed violently. “Oh, Ralph, why did he get you fired, and why did you come to Columbus?” she burst out suddenly. ‘‘ Before that I was foolish, but I was decent. And it’s all his fault, damn him!” : Walters drew her to him. ‘ Forgive me, Marie,” he pleaded. “I was thinking of my—” “And I was thinking of my mother, too,” she groaned. all bad, and it’s his fault!” The cab turned a corner suddenly, and the horses almost ran down a man who was crossing the street. The pedestrian was John Forsythe, but Marie Riggers and Ralph Walters, blinded by their grief, did not see him. Nor did he recognize the cou- ple huddled in the corner of the cab. It is doubtful if he would have identi- fied them had they been in plain sight, for John Forsythe was guiding himself subcon- sciously. His mind was elsewhere. Forgot- ten were the adventures of only a short time before. He was going over ways and means of shortening the apprenticeship which must precede accomplishment. CHAPTER XII. ““DID YOU DO IT?” HE customers were the solution of the problem, John Forsythe decided as he hung his clothes in neat order in the little closet. Among them were men who “Oh, God—we’re both bad, | could be of vast. assistance, and by them he would climb. He had been acting on ‘that premise, but he had not taken the full advantage. Before his eyes closed he had resolved to increase his efforts. | . In the ensuing days he did so to such an extent that just as steadily as he had lost popularity with the other clerks as his loan business grew, just so steadily did he gain it with certain of the customers that did business with Fyske, Fyske & Browne. - These were a carefully selected list, cer- tainly men who could in no manner be classed as squirrels, and to them he gave superservice. No favor was too great for him to extend, provided it cost him noth- ing and did not conflict with the rules of. the firm. He was punotilious in observing . those rules because he would take no chances on jeopardizing his progress even slightly. | One day he observed a new figure among those that sat in thé chairs facing the black- board. He was a skeleton of a man—a man whose face in John Forsythe’s imagination was a death’s head. The shiny skin, look- ing as if varnished, was drawn back sharply Over prominent cheek bones; his mouth was a mere slit, apparently without lips, and his neck, from the base of which_protruded an unhealthy swelling, was wrinkled like a piece of leather that had been exposed to heat. His hands were claws, long finger nails heightening the impression of talons. His clothing was untidy, and he was un- shaven; but Mr. Browne, a few seconds after he came in, rushed from his office and greeted him effusively, a courtesy he ex- tended to no other customer. | _ “Who is that?” asked Forsythe of Clear- water, the head bookkeeper. ‘“‘ Faxon—Henry Faxon,” replied Clear- water. ‘‘ Ever since we opened he’s taken spells of coming in here day after day for months at a time. He never makes a trade here, when he sits in that chair, but scatters his ‘business all over town, so far as we can learn. That’s so no one can follow him. All he does here is watch the board, but Mr. Browne believes his pres- ence adds prestige to the firm because he’s so well known. That’s why he makes such, a fuss over him.” GOMIIGooOO