Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 136: what you’re looking at

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292 money, before now,” thought Mr. Ched- worth, with a faint glow of sympathy and understanding. ‘“‘ Never so desperate as that, though, of course. Not revolvers and that sort of thing. Always kept myself in hand. Hadn’t got the pluck to do other- wise, maybe. And, in the end, it always come straight with me. Still, if you’re pushed hard for money— No, I shan’t say nothing to the police about it. Let 7em go!” He made his way slowly down the stairs. On the first-floor landing, a stout, dishev- eled, good natured sort of woman came out of a door and examined him with amused interest. ‘Been up to the top of the ’ouse, ain’t you?” she asked. He nodded. Her gaze traveled over his clothes from faded hat to patched boots, and she took him for something like what he appeared to be. “Another of you, eh?” she remarked. “What do you mean—another of us?” “ Bills? Bless you, your sort’s going up and down them stairs all day! Didn’t get paid, though, did you, I'll lay! None of ‘em ever do.” “I—I ain’t a bill.” “Summons, then, eh?” antagonistically surmised the woman. “ That’s_ worse. There’s always one or other of you blood- suckers—”’ “And I ain’t a summons, neither,” de- nied Mr. Chedworth indignantly. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you’ve come from the old man?” demanded the woman . in some excitement. “Old man? What old man?” “Ts father! Mr. Carford’s father!” “Oh, he’s got a father, has he?” “Ves, and a nice specimen he is, too! Quarreled with the boy. Won’t have a thing more to do with ’im because *e mar- tied against ’is father’s wishes. And her such a nice young lady, too. It’s a sin and shame, and if you’re a friend of the old man’s—”’ “ Nothing to do with me, none of ’em,” disclaimed Mr. Chedworth, and went on down to the street. He hastened away from the house quick- _ ly enough, but gradually his pace slackened ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. and at the corner of the road he halted, deep in meditation. And at last he swung round and briskly retraced his steps. ‘““ May as well do a bit of good if I can,” he told himself. ‘‘ What’s the use of money, otherwise? Besides, another time he might be more desperate. And it would be a pity if that young wife of his— Rum,” he re- flected. “I’ve often wished some one ’d come along to help me, and now here am I going to help some one else. I feel I’ve got to do it. I suppose that’s because I’ve been through it myself.” He climbed the stairways again and rapped at the door of the young man’s front room. ‘“ EKr—what about that room you’ve got to let?” inquired Mr. Chedworth as the door was opened. Carford staggered back, gasping. Mr. Chedworth caught a glimpse of the girl beyond, and he frowned in caution at - the young man. “The room? ‘The empty room?” stam- mered Carford. “It’s — it’s this one.” He led Mr. Chedworth into a vacant room adjoining. Mr. Chedworth quietly shut the door and turned to the young man. “Going to ask you a question,” he said. “What did you want that eighty pounds for?” ‘““ Because we'll be homeless to-morrow. I’m broke.” ‘‘ What—broke and lunching at restau- rants?” ‘““T was giving a man lunch. It was my last chance. I thought perhaps he’d lend me the money. But he was like all the rest of them.” “Married against your father’s wish, didn’t you?” asked Mr. Chedworth bluntly. “Yes. What’s that got to do with you?” “Won’t he help you?” persisted Mr. Chedworth. ‘““No. He’s finished with me.” “What about your wife’s people?” ‘ She’s an orphan. Why do you—” “Got an idea about lending you the money myself,” said Mr. Chedworth. “You? Oh, if you would! No—lI for- got! JI—I’d rather not. I know how you got it.” Gomichooks.com