Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

mt St * + i% 574 ARGOSY¥-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. plodded along contentedly enough under Benkard’s instructions and authority and it seemed more than ever improbable that he would be able to strike out for himself and start anew, yet he had refused the legacy? What could be the meaning of it? “T ain’t got no idee o’ that there Wall Street business, but I opine it would drive anybuddy crazy to watch them stocks go chasin’ up and down like a chipmunk on a tree! ’Tain’t any wonder some o’ the young fellers lose their heads, ‘specially when other folks’ money is in their reach, and git to gamblin’ with that as well as their own when the fever hits ’em,”’ Geoff re- marked. ‘“T heard tell o’ one the other day who lost a lot that didn’t belong to him and then killed himself in Mr. Benkard’s own rooms after confessin’ to him. Shirley, his name was. They say he was a fine, up- standin’ young man, too, till he got to think- in’ he was bound to beat the game. It hap- pened years ago afore you j’ined Mr. Benk- ard, and I don’t s’pose you ever knowed him.” Dunn had straightened as though every nerve and muscle in his body were taut, and the vacant, introspective look in his dim eyes had given place to a stare of shrinking horror. ‘Lawrence Shirley! Yes, I knew him. It was a hideous tragedy—hideous! But where could you have heard about it, Geof- frey? I thought it was buried and forgot- ten!” His voice was shaking now, but Geoff replied in an offhand way: “ Two gentlemen in the train—strangers, they was—goin’ out to Silver Bay, where I got a job waitin’ for me, was talking “bout Mr. Benkard’s death and one thing and ‘nother, and they spoke of him. Reckon they was speculators themselves and had knowed the .young feller; leastways they recollected all *bout the business. “Seems to me one 0’ ’em said ’twas on New Year’s Day ten year ago that Mr. Shirley killed himself, and t’other remarked it was a pity he hadn’t gone to them whose money he’d used and made a clean breast 0” it; that they’d ’a’ helped him out and give him a chance for a fresh start, so’s he could have paid back what -he’d took. Both o’ ‘em agreed he was a splendid young man, only foolish, and then they switched to argufyin’ over the market reports so I didn’t pay no more attention, not knowin’ nothin’ ’bout stocks and sech. Was the poor young feller a friend o’ yours, Mr. Dunn?” But the erstwhile secretary had regained his composure, and he spoke apathetically once more. “JT had few friends; I knew him as I was acquainted with a score of young men who traded with us now and then, but he wasn’t a steady customer. His death shocked me, of course, yet there have been many such—many such. I must pack now and arrange for a taxi to take me to the station. I am glad to have seen you again, Geoffrey, before I left. Good-by.” He held out his hand almost timidly, and Geoff, after wiping his greasy one on the newspaper, grasped it heartily. There was a look in the eyes of this shadow of a man which troubled -his simple, kindly heart. The thought came to him that this was a sorry sort of leave-taking after years of faithful if possibly misguided service to a hard master. : ‘““Good-by, Mr. Dunn, and good luck. When you git over this mebbe you’ll find your plans workin’ out fine. Hope you'll be comin’ out this way agin some time.” Dunn shook his head, but the ghost of a smile flickered over his tired face and lingered as he turned away and started for the house. Geoff threw his last crumbs to a cat- bird who hovered near, and then lighted his pipe. It was a day of departures. No one remained now except Mrs. Cayley, her daughter and the servants. He wished old Henry would get well and leave his room before his own work was completed; there was a question he wanted to ask him, but he could invent no excuse for venturing unbidden into the house. Sergeant Eliot seemed to have taken himself off, but that private detective must be hanging around somewhere. What could he be up to? For the rest of the day he puttered about the terrace, seeing no one, but at nightfall when he returned to his own little cottage GComichbooks.com —_—-.