The Argosy, November 1908 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

AN ELUSIVE LEGACY. Could such a thing really happen to any one outside a story-book? And especially to so unlucky a beggar as himself ? It seemed hard to believe; yet he was certainly not dreaming, for there before him lay as tangible evidence a brief, businesslike notification from his late uncle’s attorney, together with a news- paper obituary describing the deceased as a ‘retired capitalist.” “Retired capitalist!” What an opulent, care-free sound the ‘term had! It signified money safely invested in solid securities, a regular in- come paid at- stated intervals, entire absence of financial fret or worry, the liberty to travel, to entertain one’s friends, to enjoy life in any way one chose. For a moment Behan felt an involun- tary pang of envy for the being so hap- pily situated ; then as his glance fell once more on the lawyer’s letter the thrilling realization dawned upon him that he was now one of these fortunate beings him- self. A great sense of relief swept over him. He snatched up the missive again, as though to reassure himself, and scanned it with eager eyes. Yes, it was true—actually and undeni- ably true! No more would he have to give up his time and talent to uncon- genial labor; no longer would he be obliged to retouch heavy, wooden faces in the effort to give them some semblance of humanity, or caper like a monkey to attract the supercilious attention of “drooling brats.”” He was free! He shook his finger playfully at the big camera over on the other side of the room. ‘No more ‘demnition grind’ for you and me, old girl!” he cried. “ We are now ‘retired capitalists.’ We have joined the ranks of the plutocrats.” Under the circumstances a show of grief upon Behan’s part would have been rankest hypocrisy; nevertheless, he con- ducted himself with a fitting regard for the proprieties, and paid all due respect to the memory of his departed kinsman. He went at once to Ravenswood, the little town where Uncle John had re- sided, attended the funeral in the capacity of chief mourner, and sedu- lously molded both his mien and manner 617 so as to give no indication of his inward elation. Installing himself as master in the big house where the old man had maintained a hermit-like existence for so many years, he met all callers with an- impressive decorum, and quite won the old house- keeper’s heart by assuring her that. she need fear no changes in the present menage. By the end of a week, however, he de- cided there would be nothing amiss in gratifying his natural curiosity, and therefore one bright morning strolled down the main street of the town to the office of G. Weatherby, the lawyer who had notified him of his windfall. G. Weatherby, a somewhat saturnine- looking individual, glanced up from a perusal of the morning paper with a quizzical gleam in his deep-set eyes as his caller entered. “Ah, young Mr. Behan, I believe,” he drawled without rising from his seat. ‘““Do you know, I’ve had a sort of pre- monition that you’d be dropping in before long. felt it in my bones, as the old country people around here gay.”’ Dick, realizing that he had to deal with an eccentric, merely smiled good-na- turedly. ‘Suppose you had unexpectedly tum- bled into a gold-mine, Mr. Weatherby,” he retorted, “don’t you think you’d be tempted to look around a bit and see just how much ore was in sight?” The attorney glanced up at him sharp- ly, and then went off into a series of noiseless chuckles. “Tumbled into a gold-mine!” he ejaculated. Again his face contorted, and his sides shook. ‘ That is the best thing I have heard in years. Oh, it’s good— very, very good!”’ Behan began to grow a trifle annoyed. He was conscious of having said nothing very original or amusing, and this laugh- ter seemed to him anything but the proper attitude of a counselor toward one of his most important chents. “ That is all very well, Mr. Weather- by,” and he spoke a shade huffily, “ but I came down this morning for a business conference, not to pose as a comic sup- plement. Perhaps, then, we had better get down to a discussion of my affairs.” The other’s peculiar mirth ceased as comicloooks.corn