The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 232: what you’re looking at

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

218 Keller glanced up bewilderedly and listened blankly to Tillinghast’s repe- tition of the remark. Then he broke into a smile, felt in an inside pocket, brought out with a nervous gesture the little gold cigarette-box and dropped it into Tillinghast’s palm with a laugh. “Tm as absent-minded as though I were rich. Really, I never noticed it was yours at all; it’s so like my own.” He seemed more serious than Till- inghast’s laughing eyes demanded, even launching upon further explana- tion. “Oh, that’s all right, Kell. Id rather have what you’ve got than the chronic D. T.’s,” Tillinghast broke in upon him. “But, I say, Till. I swear I thought the thing was my own.” “That’s what the fellow over in Jef- ferson Market Court said the other day when the judge asked him why on earth he had picked up that lady’s sealskin sack in a department store; but the judge wasn’t as trusting as your friends, Kell—and even your ene- mies.” “Oh, confound you!” cried -the other, jumping up irritably. “I didn’t want your silly cigarette-case. I got a better one this morning; old Scroggins left it in the library.” Keller flashed the trinket before Tillinghast’s amused eyes, flung the newspaper at him, and left the room. Tillinghast, with a strange, forced laugh, stood looking after the fellow. ‘‘ Somebody ought to cure that boy; he'll be crunching along on the crust of crime—if he isn’t already. Some of the chaps think it’s funny. ‘I suppose —oh, well, he’s harmless—and so was the club dog till he went mad and bit three bell-hops.” | Dropping down in the vacated chair he picked up the spreading leaves of newspaper, turning mechanically to the column marked “ Personal.” There was nothing of interest until he reached the “ Business Personal” heading and there noted the announcement of a new Turkish bath. THE ARGOSY. Taking out a neat little note-book Tillinghast scrawled the address, men- tally determining to try the place. He followed down through the “Lost and Found” column with his usual precision. One prominent ad- vertisement arrested his attention and he considered it thoughtfully for fully a minute. The notice read: LOST.—Probably in street on Fifth Avenue, between Thirty-Fourth and Seventy-Second, a five carat diamond, rondelle cut; unique alexanderite table- base. Engraved “A. K. K. to M. C. H. 9-14-10.” Lost Saturday afternoon, September 14. Reward $250.00. Re- turn through Sterling, jeweler, Fifth Avenue. “And it doesn’t say ‘no questions asked,’’’ mused Tillinghast. ‘“ Well, maybe I’m wrong; but those initials! ”’ He looked up quickly as Keller passed through the room on his way to the street. Tillinghast half rose, as if to stop him with‘a question. ‘Then he squared his shoulders, gave a little toss to his head, thrust fists deep into his afternoon trousers, and stood staring out of the window as Kellar walked down the club steps and hurried up the street, fumbling something with nerv- ous fingers in his coat-pocket. Going to a telephone booth, Tilling- hast, secured a number and asked for Miss Hartworth. “ Hello, is this you, Miss Hart- worth?” he asked. Being assured that it was, he continued: “‘ Are you advertising through Sterling, the jew- eler, for the return of a diamond ring?” “Yes,” was the low reply. is confidential, Mr. Tillinghast. I have reasons for not wanting by name con- nected with the ring.”’ “T understand. You lost it from a taxi on Fifth Avenue, didn’t you? Were you riding alone? ”’ “No, Mr. Keller was with me. Do you think you know something about it? Oh, I’m so anxious to recover it as soon—oh, as soon as possible. Every minute counts.” CoOMmicbook * But it. CO