Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

THE DESPERATE YOUNG MAN. “Paying a pretty high price for your honesty, ain’t you?” ‘I don’t care! I confessed about—about that to the wife; and I’ve promised— We'll get along somehow. [’ll pay off everybody, in time, once I get the chance.” “Got a job?” dryly asked Mr. Ched- worth. “No,” the young man had to admit. “Spent all your money on the furniture, eh? Bill of sale on it, and it’s being claimed to-morrow—ain’t that about it? I thought so. You’re in a nasty hole, my boy. And if your father don’t give in—” _** He’ll give in, sooner or later.” “Meanwhile,” Mr. Chedworth remind- ed him, “ you’ve got to live, How are you going to do it? Now, will you let me lend you the money out of—of what I’ve got in my pocket?” “No! No, I tell you! It isn’t fair of you to tempt me. I don’t want to get mixed up in your—” Mr. Chedworth held out some bank notes to Carford. The young man struck them to the floor and strode from the room. ‘ “ Fell do!” decided Mr. Chedworth. “ He’s straight enough.” He picked up his notes and followed the _ young man into the other apartment. “That room will just about suit me,” he said. “I'll get it furnished this week. It’s just the sort of place I want. And—and I don’t mind paying a sort of premium for it. Say—say a hundred pounds.” THE 293 “T told you—” began the young man, only to be interrupted. “Tm going to tell you something first. About me and my—my circumstances. It’s a secret, mind. But it’s true, and I can prove it to you. And—and I dare say I can fix up some sort of a job for you, just to carry you along for a bit. Sort of part- time secretary, eh? I’m looking for some one like that, what I can trust. Now, you listen to what ’m going to tell you about myself, and promise you'll keep it dark.” V. “ A BUTTONHOLE!”’ shrilled Mrs. Ched- worth when her husband warily entered his home that evening. ““I—I forgot!” guiltily exclaimed Mr. Chedworth. ‘‘ Had—had rather an excit- | ing day, my dear.” “ Exciting? What happened?” “Oh, nothing—nothing special. Just been fixing up about the commercial trav- eling. I start out on the road next Mon- day.” ‘And a good thing, too,” she declared. “ But why you should go wearing vi'lets, at your age—” “ Bought ’em for you, my dear.” “T dare say!” she returned cynically. “Tt was just a bit of extravagance, and you're trying to get out of it! You know you can’t afford to go squandering your money like that!” END The third story in this series, “An Adjustment of Accounts,” wili appear shortly. U U Le} THE COMPLEX WHEN I step on that thirteenth tee, I just become—well, frantic; That dinky little pond, to me, Looms broad as the Atlantic. The Psychos tell me that it’s just A complex, or such bunk, But when I drive and holler, ‘‘ Fore!” My complex answers, ‘ Sunk!” Comicbooks-com