The Argosy for May — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

334 Joe was standing beside her with that blooming leer ef his, and of course she thought I did it all on purpose. It hurt her pretty hard, I guess, and I hated to see Joe standin’ so close to her. But what could I do? The head waiter cremated what was left of me with a fiery stare and started in the direction of the telephone, which I knew to be an instrument used on oc- casions to call the police. Just as he left the tableau around the table, in which I was playing villain and Joe hero, an old fellow I had no- ticed at the table next to us bounced up and butted in. ‘Wait a minute!” he hollered, grab- bing the head waiter by the sleeves and pulling him back. ‘“Let me see that diamond }? he went on. The head waiter handed it over dumbly, and I saw the old man’s eyes light up. I didn’t hope. What was the use? He was probably a detective, anyway. Oh, but I was in wrong! : ‘You gentlemen are mistaken; that is a diamond, but it is full of flaws and yellow,” he continued, after a careful scrutiny of the stone. ~ Joe’s jaw fell. He hadn’t had a good look at the thing, anyway. The head waiter looked at the vener- able gentleman and began to back water. “T’ll give you thirty dollars for it right now,” the old gentleman offered at length. “It belongs to him,” said the waiter, drawing toward me. “Will you take thirty for it?” the old gentleman asked kindly, stepping over to me. “Will I—will I—will I take—say that again, please,” I stammered. ‘T’ve offered you thirty,” he repeat- ed; “will you take it?” For some minutes I tried to get the nerve to reply; then I held my hand out limply and answered: “Lay it there.”’ Pulling out the healthiest pocketbook I have seen in years, the old gentleman peeled a hundred-dollar bill from the outside and handed it to the waiter. ‘Get that changed,” he ordered. Joe disappeared. THE ARGOSY. The head waiter lifted me back to my rightful throne as king of the South Sea Islands, and I dismissed him with a wave of my hand when I began to feel that his salaaming act was getting pretty poor. The waiter rushed back, his hand trembling with its load of bills. Skinning off fives to the number of six, the elderly gentleman handed me the thirty with a smile and slipped the ring in his pocket. I paid my bill and cut for the door, Mabel hanging weakly to my arm. Just as I got out I saw the old man coming through the door. I turned to thank him as he got into a taxicab. ‘Don’t thank me,” he said; “even if it was a poor diamond, I wanted. it.” “But for when and for why?” I murmured weakly. ‘“ You don’t mean that it zsz°t a diamond, after all?” ‘It’s the rottenest fake I ever saw,” he told me, “and you played a pretty poor game yourself.” “Me! Played a game?” I cried, trying hard to understand. “Sure. You knew it was a phony diamond all the time,” he smiled. ‘J did not. But if it’s a fake, why— why on earth did you pay me thirty for it then? “I cried. “Bo,” and he pulled my ear closer, “bo, that hundred-dollar bill I changed was a phony, too. I’ve been trying to get rid of it all day. I saw the chance there and took it. I’m much obliged to you.” Giving the driver an order, he spun off. L stood dazed on the curb, staring after him, until Mabel grabbed me and led me off as meek as a lamb. “Have you got the price of a mar- riage license?” she asked. I pulled out the remainder of the thirty and answered: “ Why?” “ Because,’ she replied, “we're go- ing to get one. You need somebody to look after you.” I was convinced that she was’ right; and, as I had the price and felt a change in my luck, I called up a taxi and we started off. Just as we were turning the corner Mabel looked back. VOLK CO)