Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

POKER “JT am. I’m nearly dead, James! It’s just about all I can do to hold my head up. Well, you don’t show it, if you are!” Henry rambled on and considered James with dull, glazing, almost uncomprehending eyes. “Gad! What an astonishing face itis! { know; I’ve said that before, James. But I can’t get over it—can’t get over my wisdom in picking it for this job, I mean. Y’know, I had more than a suspicion that this was going to be an unusual evening— evening to try a man’s nerve and get him fussed and—impatient, and so on—get him to looking and doing things that might irri- tate Dixon, that is, and—” “See here, sir!” James itnerrupted firmly. “Why don’t you go to bed?” “Huh?” said Henry, and straightened up. “‘ Am I—getting inccoherent?”’ “ Not just that, perhaps,” James smiled faintly, “but you’re extremely tired and there’s nothing now-that I can’t look after.” “ Nevertheless, James, I'll never take off so much as my collar until I hear that biped dynamo snoring in his bed upstairs!” the elder gentleman responded, more energeti- cally. “ You can't tell what notion may strike him; he might feel moved to take that girl and start out to see New York’s night life—and Berwind’s gang might catch him. Jim!” “Were you watching him on the way home?” “Every minute,” James said, very shortly. “Did he yawn much?” Henry asked hopefully. ‘“ Not once.” Mr. Curlew’s eye, grown pained and sad- dened for the moment, hardened doggedly. “Well, he'll yawn soon, James,” he said. “T’ve arranged for that.” “ You're not going to drug him?” young Mr. Whitmore cried amazedly. “ T am—with food,” sighed Henry. “ I’ve —I’ve tried to provide for everything this evening. Gorely and I have been conferring while you were out and it’s ready now. Supper, that is—the sort of supper that ’d paralyze a normal ostrich!” Mr. Curlew concluded, stifling a giant yawn, “ Oh— that you, Gorely? You may as well find FACES. 83 Mr. Dixon and tell him that we’re—we’re supping now.” His tired head wagged at James as the butler moved away and new hope came into his foggy eyes. “And, then, James,” he croaked softly, exultantly, “when the wild animal’s been stuffed until it’s just capable of stealing away to its lair and curling up—then, James, we sleep!” Dixon entered within the minute, walk- ing briskly and bearing the general effect of a man who, risen from leng slumber, has just left his invigorating cold bath. ‘Want to see me?” he asked as briskly. ‘Miss Banford’s freshening up, of course, but I thought when she was finished that I’d put in an hour or two getting some notes in shape and—” “Oh, but, my dear boy! No more busi- ness to-night!” Henry protested playfully. ‘ Just a bite of supper and then bed! Hun- ery?” “Me? I’m always hungry!” Dixon said cheerfully. “Hah!” said Henry. eater?” “You bet!” said the visitor. “You'll have te prove it to me,” chuckled Mr. Curlew as he piloted his guest from the library and to the dining room where Gore- ly, himself a trifle weary, awaited them. ‘“‘ Now, if you'll just—” “Oh! Only three chairs, eh?” Mr. Dixon said suddenly. “ There are three of us.” “Yes, I—yes, of course,” the visitor laughed shortly. ‘‘ Only—well, say, per- “Good hearty ‘haps I’d better not eat anything now, after all. I think I’ll get at my stuff upstairs there.” Just for an instant Henry’s thin hand passed over his brow. “But you said—not a minute ago—hun- gry—” “Well, Mr. Curlew, may I speak out! plainly?” Dixon asked in a sudden, surpris- ingly violent burst. “ I mean, without mak- ing any hard feelings?” “ Of course.’” “Well, I don’t know just. how to put it, but eut my way, where I’ve spent most of my life, we look cen the people that work Comic oookxs (S@) =