Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

CAT EAT time came, clean it out from cellar to gar- ret of everything valuable that she could carry. To the simple that sounds decidedly sim- ple, but to any one who has ever tried to get a position as maid in ‘“‘ one of the best of homes,” it’s intricate business. Our best people are not prone to engage burglars as butlers, poke snatchers as footmen, or gun molls as maids. References nearly as ex- tensive as Lord Chesterfield’s letters to his son are required. That’s where Celeste shone her brightest —with the reference racket. She always came to apply for a position armed with enough references to get her into a plenary session of the council of ambassadors. And this is how she got them: After making a killing in a certain town, Celeste St. Cyr would move onto another far away, where she would set herself up in style in an apartment or transient hotel to live off the proceeds of the haul and lay plans for the next. She could easily afford a maid, or a whole colony of them if neces- sary, most of the time. So she would in- sert this advertisement in the ‘“‘ Help Want- ed” columns of the newspapers: MAID—Only applicants who can _ supply written references from former employers of excellent repute will be considered. Apart- ment 718, the Melbourne. Then all the little stupids who had worked for good families would apply for the position and bring their references along. Celeste, posing as Mrs. Worthing- ton James or Mrs. Cabot O’Rell, would look at the letters very, very carefully and then scrutinize their owners. For a scene like this she just evaporated “ class,” act- ing in spring as though she just had re- turned from St. Moritz, or in autumn as if she were bound for Pinehurst. It always went over with a dull thud among the maids. They put her in Class AA, and each hoped she would get the job. Finally, after assuring herself that the girl was the proper person, Celeste would engage one. Very slyly she would keep those references, sometimes for weeks and weeks. Then one day she would decide to go to Europe or Honolulu, or who knows CAT. 157 where, and unfortunately the poor, dear girl of a maid would be out of a job. Celeste would put away her finery, adopt her innocent air and baby eyes, and then herself turn maid. If, for instance, the last girl she had employed were named Eliza- beth Malcolm, Celeste would become Eliza- beth Malcolm, and, to her prospective em- ployer, exhibit Elizabeth’s credentials from Mrs. Soandso and Mrs. Whomsoever, liv- ing out on the Drive. Invariably she got the position, coming so well recommended. When her chance came, Celeste St. Cyr would clean out her mistress’s jewel cas- kets, trunks, wall safe— well, the whole shanty. Then to another town to try the gag again. It worked wonderfully well, and its inventor had her whole heart in it because she had thought it out herself. Of course, like most anything, it did a flop once in a while. She had been caught once or twice, and her game was known to the police of several big cities, who treasured her portrait and finger prints; but we all know what Mr. Barnum said about the birthrate of a certain species of gullible human. It worked well enough to furnish her with a handsome living. To ‘work well enough ” is all we ask of even a flivver, so Celeste was well satisfied with her scheme. Now that we all understand each other, let’s pick up the thread again and go on. Celeste blew into town, as has been chronicled, looking for another victim. Her last term in service had been exceedingly profitable. The loot she had brought away with her she carried always in a rather large seal hand bag. It was fattened with: Nineteen hundred and seventy-eight dol- lars, mostly in fifty dollar bills. Four diamond rings that probably could set Morgan & Co. up in business all over again. A brooch of sapphires of about thirty thou- sand watt brilliance. A few “trinkets” well worth having. With such an assortment, Celeste felt that the wolf could camp outside her door for some time to come and she could ig- nore his presence. Still, get what you can while the getting is good was another one of her mottoes. So, when she came to the city she moved into the St. Regis Apart- CoOmicboooks (C@)