Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

THE CONFIDENCE MAN, who got into the war. It’s clean adven- ture I’m hungering for! A chance to meet a man on some other footing than this in- terminable scramble for pennies. I’d rather fight it out with axes.” Wade resorted to a rasping persuasive- ness. | “ Aw, forget it, Dan—that’s only a pass- ing mood. Listen, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get this place. and spent money besides.” ‘More fool you!” “But it’s the ‘best. plant in the world for us. Listen. When we open up the big graft in the fall, you can see how nice it will be when I can refer to ‘ my rich friend, a gentleman of an old Long Island family who lives in seclusion on the old estate.’ See?” He grinned persuasively. did not respond. ‘In brief, you plan a little game in which I play second fiddie. My only interest in ‘the graft is with the headwork which you seem to think you'll take over yourself. It would be a fine cure for a man who craves excitement to dig himself into a hole in the ground while somebody else plans the layout, wouldn’t 1t?” He picked up his hat and eloves from the glistening desk. “ Better sublet your little deal in coun- try estates, and think up a better one, ” he snapped. ~ With that he turned to ‘the door. Wade, for all his domineering hardness, could not buck Corvan, and he knew it. So he turned to sentiment; and he did it with inconceivable grace. His appeal gained by the very hardness of his character. He spoke sincerely. But Corvan “Dan,” he said, “ you and me won't - quarrel over this. I did it for the best; and I know you'll see that when you think it over. Do that little thing; and remem- ber the old homestead is waiting for you whenever you want it.” Corvan grinned with his hand on the doorknob. “ Sure!” He spoke with a suspicion of acid in his voice. “Sure, you did it for the best, and when it comes to a good graft I’m right with you. But in my present 645 mood the tall grasses are not for me. Bet- ter sublet your plant, and get a pair of 808° gles. l’m going to raise dust.” “ Where'll you be to-night?” ~ “ Out at Welsh’s, Why?” “ Just so’s I can get you if I need to.” “ Forget it. DP be in in the morning.’ And again the elegant Corvan trod the marble corridors of the -Citizen’s Trust until the ornate portals of that building dis- gorged him among hurrying crowds that filled him with disgust and deep contempt. CHAPTER It. A GENTLEMAN'S .GAME. Py *HE establishment of Mr. Harmon | Welsh occupied a highly decorative stucco house in a northern suburb of the city. It was off one of those roads that skirt the Sound and are occupied by residences that rub shoulders with road- houses of gay repute. Mr. Welsh’s residence had not long been established in these grounds, away in smooth lawns to the Sound, and the gentlemen who came to spend the eve- ning in his lavishly furnished rooms didn’t which fell: know him much better than they knew each . other. But an evening at Harmon Welsh’s rapidly became synonymous with the promise of convivial -and sportsmanlike recreation; and the small matter that they’ who came seldom went away without leav- ing currency, checks or negotiable instru- ments behind them, was for the most part written off the accounts of those visitors as losses which contributed in some vague way to the dignity and honor of a good sport. Under this amiable arrangement it oc- curred to nobody that Mr. Harmon Welsh | might be called a professional gambler, and as a matter of fact few of his guests knew that he was. Corvan was one of the few. Corvan had known Welsh ever since a day when the elegant and witty confidence man had used the gambler as a convenient tool. That association had profited Welsh to’ the extent of setting him up m his cailing, and he had not forgotten it. In Welsh’s house Corvan might be sure of fair play. Ccomiclbooks. And while the play was fair, CO