Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

904 explain the thing to her father he will come across with more, if you need it. Only don’ t—” Snorting, young Mr. Greer stepped out into the departing sunshine. Hand on knob, Richard Flynn looked after him as he sped to the corner and around it—and then, with a shrug and a shake of the head, Mr. Flynn appeared to dismiss Bartley al- together from his thoughts. An amazing smile suffused his countenance and he mounted the stairs two steps at a time. The logical thing, young Mr. Greer re- fiected bitterly as he sat in the dubious Dolton establishment a little before eight, would be for Richard in his present state to fail altogether to put in an appearance. Not that Richard had ever failed in the good old rip-roaring days, when they had been in the habit of sweeping everything before them—but these, emphatically, were not the good old days. These thoughts, however, did Richard Flynn a grievous wrong. At that very minute he was hurrying down the unlovely block, looking for Dolton’s restaurant; and now he found it and cast an eye almost of approval at its dingy front. It was an odd expression for the ostensibly softened Richard to be wearing; Dolton’s hinted— and rather accurately—at nothing more ex- alted than poor food, some dirt and an ideal atmosphere in which to plot robust crime. The windows were far from clean and the dingy curtains cut off from the street most effectively all view of the interior; and opening the door and stepping into the haze, one knew that Dolton’s clien- tele had no objections to volatilized grease and that, beyond the things fried in it, cabbage was the next most popular dish. Further, Mr. Greer himself appeared to have taken some color from the surround- ings. There was never a trace of the open, boyish quality in the little smile with which he looked up to greet Richard; rather did low, unscrupulous cunning lurk in Greer’s eye—and his hat was pulled down and the cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth, as he stirred absently at a cup of the liquid known here as coffee. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Mr. Dolton himself, after a mighty hand- shake for Richard and a few words as to the glorious past they had shared, politely drifted back to his counter at the rear, with its coffee urns and its rows of heavy cups and plates. Bartley, a closer inspection of Flynn over, heaved a sigh of relief. “ Over it already, eh?” he muttered. “ Over what?” “The mush!” Mr. Flynn failed to reflect the smile. “Tf you're talking about Wayne, no!” he said. “I told you before I never knew there was a woman like her alive, Bart. That sticks. Now leave her name out of the conversation, if you have to sneer over it! Did you get money?” ‘<E cid!” “How much?” Young Mr. Greer produced a bulging roll of bills and exhibited it. “Five hundred!” “Well, I wouldn’t flash it in here. There’s a dozen of the worst looking hoboes I’ve ever seen sitting around and we're not armed.” “Oh, that’s all right!’”’ young Mr. Greer smiled serenely. “ How’d you get it?”’ “Do you mean, how did I get away with rt Tks <4 l do.” “ Well—I’m sitting here now, am I not?” Bartley smiled. ‘“ That answers everything. Now! How about you?” “Well?” “Are you yourself again or are you go- ing to burst into tears when I begin to talk about brutal things?” “Watch me and see!” the altered Rich- ard said briefly. “And this brutal stuff; that’s what I want to talk to you about, because I’ve been doing some planning of my own. This Rolf!” “Yes!” said Bartley, in mild astonish- ment. “You think he’s in love with the little kid—Prue?” ‘““T’ve had some such impression.” Mr. Flynn’s countenance darkened omi- nously. He leaned across the table with much the expression of the several gentle- men he had so lately been criticizing. oO comicbooks ©