Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

664 off that even jolted the old-timers in the Latin Quarter. I tell you, I won't stand for it! Ill call the bargain off, and resume. my own name while there are a few shreds of respectability clinging to it!” . Sangrado needed his utmost diplomacy to restore harmony. He assured George that pressure should be brought to bear upon the editor of the Petit Parisien. That, while nothing improper took place at the party, still those given in the future should be even quieter, more discreet. The guest list more carefully scrutinized. The ad- mirable propriety of conduct observed by M. Strong had earned the profound grati- tude of Count Vaudreuil, who would, ere departing, express in person his apprecia- tion and esteem. Meanwhile—was everything possible be- ing done for the comfort of monsieur? Might he, Sangrado, suggest that the foun- tains, “les grands eaux,’ were displaying at Versailles on the morrow, and that a journey out might be enjoyable to one who had never beheld this prodigality of the Louis? With, let us say, a basket luncheon put up by the hotel chef. A brace of cold -woodcock, truffled; a bottle of the 1897 Rheims—had monsieur tried this vintage? The Three Queens was indeed fortunate to have a few bottles left in its cellars. Fa- mous bon vivants had come here expressly to obtain one, and been refused. But as Count Vaudreuil, M. Strong would have no difficulty whatsoever. And so forth, and so on. George was helpless in the hands of a man like Sangrado. Nevertheless, he began from that hour to look forward to the time when the real count would be fed up on Paris, and ready to return to his little castle in the little village. Even though he, George, must then leave a palatial suite for a bare attic, and turn from a bed in which exiled mon- archs had died, to a lumpy couch and cot- ton sheets. But at least he would be free! He began to feel like a royal prisoner. He could sympathize with the “ personage’s ” desire to get away from it all. A lifetime of it must be horrible beyond description! A few mornings later, he was horrified - to read, this time in L’Oeuvre, the break- fast paper of Paris, and in the Herald— ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. where it looked much worse, in English references to another big party pulled off by “ Georges Strong,” a party reputed to have lasted three whole days and nights, and to which, near the end, numerous un- invited guests seemed to have come, raising such a din that the tolerant police were at last obliged to remonstrate with the host, by that time too far gone to argue. The guests were shooed out, and “ Strong ” left to obtain a little much needed sleep, while his Japanese valet, Ugichi, cleaned the place up. On this day, Sangrado for the first time did not put in an appearance. He surmised —which was in fact true—that George could not keep his temper at boiling point longer than one day. By the next morn- ing, though still sore, he was able to see the humorous side of the affair. Here was he, living an almost austere life, doing all sorts of improving things at the Biblio- theque Nationale and the Pantheon and the Invalides, cherishing frugally the few dol- lars, all he possessed in the world, while on paper he was playing the Millionaire Kid to a lot of rowdy models and neay- poets and night rounders! Dash it all, he had only been in a cabaret a couple of times, and then he hadn’t so much as bought a drink for one of the flash women who hang out there! Serve the count right if he began to cut up a little himself, and start some rumors about the House of Vaudreuil. He was too decent to attempt anything of the sort, however; but he did decide that he was a bit fed up with churches and monuments and such, and that he would begin to do the more obvious things that tourists do: Montmartre, the dancing ca- sinos, the all night places catering to the morbidly curious. Trouble was, these places all cost real money, and he couldn’t figure any way of having them charged up on his hotel bill. Clever stunt that smooth Sangrado had put over, come to think of it! Sounded all right, when he outlined it; but as it had turned out, the count was having all the fun, while he, George, was sleeping in a bed worth a couple of Rolls-Royces, eating and drink- ing too much highly seasoned stuff, and for Eomirchbooks:€o