Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

590 to their mutual benefit. Their parting had not been in the best temper, and vet it had not been so violent.as to put the chance of a reunion entirely out of court—so thought Mumphy. So he had come to Montreal with two possibilities in mind, the first that of finding and in some way benefiting by Mrs. Kate Benoit, née McMurragh, alias Esme- raida; and the second of hearing something of his lost Hercules. Jules was a French- man; so what more likely than that he should have come to Quebec (as he had not returned to his island home), and if to the Province of Quebec, what more likely than to the great city of Montreal? Thus had Mr. Mumphy reasoned. Mumphy consulted a telephone directory, rang up many Benoits and McMurraghs, and failed to learn so much as a hint as to the whereabouts or fate of the Spanish dancer. Later he shaved, changed his collar, counted his money for the twentieth time and went out in search of dinner and diversion. He dined where he had eaten fishcakes earlier in the day, and drank a large bottle of beer with his steak and onions. It was real beer; and it was cheap. He decided to take his diversion by going elsewhere and drinking more beer. Already he felt better. Already he cocked his cigar at a more assured angle. The next place was a large, dim lit room crowded with small tables and various sized males of the human species. Big men in white aprons circulated actively among the tables with bottles and glasses, The air was misted with the smoke of some of the worst tobacco in the world. Mumphy expanded his chest and gave his order. One bottle had made Mumphy feel that life had already dealt him its unkindest swats, and that any change in his condition was sure to be for the better; and the second bottle caused him to look largely and cheerfully about him as if the sordid room were a world of golden opportunity. He poured and quaffed a glass from the third bottle. He felt prosperous again. He felt managerial. His brain teemed with ideas. His heart swelled with hope. He knew, for a certainty, that nothing in the world was so easy for a clever and ex- perienced man like himself as to acquire ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, easy money. Good old malt! Good old hops! He lit a cigar and drank again. A wonderful, delicious sense of security and ease possessed him. The doubtful condition of his wardrobe, and the fact that his wad had a core of brown paper, were forgotten. The world was his oyster. A very tall and broad young man of a woebegone countenance and unmistakably rustic air entered, looked bashfully around the crowded room, then sat down at Mumphy’s table and signalled to the waiter with a hand like a picnic ham. As the waiter set down the large bottle and the tall glass he said, ‘‘ How goes it, Jeff?” * Bum,’ returned the giant, handing over @ quarter. The waiter departed. Jeff filled his glass and emptied it, and sighed, and produced a pipe. -He began to shred tobacco from a thick cake with a knife big enough to skin a moose. ‘Have a cigar, friend, invited Mr. Mumphy, extending a large weed adorned with a red and gold band. For a few seconds there was suspicion in the other’s eyes, but this gave way to a look of admiration, The cigar was accepted, and lighted from a match struck and held by the donor in his best manner; and knife, tobacco and pipe were stowed away. Drink up an’ have another,” invited the genial man-of-the-world. In the other’s mumbled thanks was a sincere note of gratitude; and the long glass was again filled and drained in a hurry. Two more bottles were brought, and so deeply was the waiter impressed by Mumphy’s style that he mopped up the table with a towel before departing with the empties. ‘ A great town,” said Mumphy. “It’s sure big enough,” returned Jeff, without enthusiasm. “Tm a stranger here,’’ said Mumphy. “Well, sir, I guess ye might say the same of me,” returned Jeff. ‘“ \ fool could see you’re different from these here,” said Mumphy, indicating the men at the other tables with a slight gesture of his cigar. ‘‘ They’re what I’d call scum. No class to em. But your—that’s a pony of a different color. You’d make six of them CO@ lDNOOKK S CO@