The Argosy for May — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

330 house is at your disposal. Only tell us what we can do to square things—”’ Before Johnson could answer, the loud “ Choo! Choo!” of an automobile sounded at the door, and a pompous in- dividual, fur-coated and capped, fairly burst through the revolving-door. ‘“ How fortunate I am to, get here in time,’ the newcomer exclaimed, rushing up to the Californian and extending his hand. ‘I hurried on here at once, when the Auditorium told me you had just left. But. what on earth—”’ His eye suddenly lighted on Johnson’s disreputable appearance. The clerk and manager exchanged significant glances, Clearly their case THE ARGOSY. was hopeless now! For when this gen- tleman, who always selected the Grant- ley for his private “ deals,’ and had left a golden train of gratuities in his wake — when he once learned how his friend had been maltreated, they would see him no more at that hostelry, nor his benefactions. Sam Johnson may have caught the appeal in their eyes, or it may have been his irrepressible sense of humor—for he laughingly replied: “ Oh, nothing, Mr. Piermont, I’ve just been <‘ seeing New York,’ that’s all. I thought we moved some out our way; but I must confess, for speed and excitement, we aren’t in it with Gotham!” SOMETHING FOR NOTHING. By ROBERT CARLTON BROWN. The confessions of a bluffer in connection with an epi- sode in which he himself was perfectly on the level. ies anybody had come along at that moment and offered me twenty real dollars for my chances of heaven, and - I’ve always considered them pretty good, I’d have taken the money without a mo-. ment’s hesitation. You don’t hesitate when you're bust- ed, you know; there’s no-use. If op- portunity had» knocked .on my _ door, she’d have never got away with it. I'd have opened up so quick and pulled her in and put her in the refrigerator for safe keeping that there’d never have been a chance for her to get out and do any more knocking. But nothing turned up. I’d_ hocked everything I had, except my socks, and I only had a clean pair of them left. I’d called on every friend I knew and used every persuasive argument I could think of. But all to no avail. Here I was, fifteen cents in loose change in my pocket and three well- worn dollars in my wallet. There wasn’t any use of praying; I’d got past that. So I sat there in my elegant suite, consisting of a hall bed- room, and absently fingered over the three dollars. I pulled out a pack of cards to pass * the time and fell to pretending that I was a gambler; not that I have ever been anything else, although a mighty poor one. Well, I’d take a card off the top and put my fifteen cents on it to hold it down. ‘Then I’d look in the glass at my face, beautifully bedecked with whiskers, and meander on this wise: “ Bill, Pll bet you it’s a red card.” “What’ll you bet?” Id answer my- self. “Three dollars,” was my quick come- back, and then I’d flash the anemic roll and lay it on top of the card. After that I'd turn the card up and find that it avas black. You see, luck was against me. I couldn’t win even mind-money; and as for paying those friendly little bets, I’d just chalk them up on the bureau and offer to double that the next one would be a heart. Sure enough, when I turned the card it would be a spade. You couldn’t beat it. I could have gambled on my luck without fear, but there’s no use gam- bling that way. And the worst of it all was I was in wrong on the love-game, too. When COMIC OOKS.CGOhM