Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

188 “Get one for me while you are about it. Meanwhile if a couple of dollars will help you—”’ “Thanks, old man. ‘That’s decent of you, but I am getting my salary two days ahead of time, so I’m flush.” In a few minutes Harry had shaken hands all around, visited the cashier and left the office. At nine forty-five in the morning he found himself unemployed. It didn’t feel so good. He lived with cousins in Jersey City, and while they wouldn’t _press him for his room rent, he knew they needed it. ‘necessity. A new job was an immediate “Think I'll go back and have a look at that poor fellow’s bag,” he told himself as he reached the Broadway pavements. ‘“‘ Then Ill go through the want ads, though it’s too late to have much luck with them to-day.” In a few minutes he had repossessed him- self of the satchel and was looking around for a quiet spot where he might explore its contents. One of the ferry waiting reoms suggested itself to him as a place where a man might fumble with a grip not his own without attracting attention. At that hour the outgoing boats were empty- Once seated in an unoccupied section, he attempted to satisfy his curiosity, but none of his keys would fit. He was unable to slip the lock by jerking at it, and at the end of five minutes the thing was still un- opened. It was not an expensive bag, and he could always cut the leather, or rather the imitation leather, of which it was made, but that was a thief’s trick, and any police- man seeing him carrying a bag with a cut in the side would promptly investigate. “Well,” thought Harry, “I didn’t go to bed until two this morning, and { have no work to do. I could use a few hours’ sleep, and I have money in my pocket. The thing to do is hire a room in some cheap hotel, cut the bag and see what’s in it. Even if there are only a few clean shirts, they will be worth the price of the room. Besides there may be some papers that would tell about the suicide. Then I might sell the story to a newspaper.” These arguments decided him. He left s ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the ferry, picked out a small, fairly clean hotel, where they still rented rooms at a dollar, and found himself in a dingy cell, with a sad looking mattress on the single © bed. As soon as he had locked the door, and taken off his coat and vest, he drew his penknife and ripped a long slit in the side of the bag. It was full of money. Unable to believe his eyes, he began puil- ing the green contents out, and throwing them on the bed. There were neat packages of treasury notes, mostly in denominations of twenty, and they were packed so tightly in the bag they did not come out easily. His knife had ripped one package nearly in two. Remember that Harry was a low salaried clerk. He had never owned more than two or three hundred dollars at one time in his life. The sight of a pile of green- backs a foot high, lying on the bed, almost — unhinged his mind. ‘““ They must be counterfeit,” he thought, and he examined the packases more closely. But if they were spurious, they were done so cleverly that none but an expert could detect them. If not counterfeit, then they must have been stolen. The suicide had been a bank cashier, robbed his bank and started for New York. Perhaps his crime had preyed on his mind, and the idea of prison so overpowered him that he preferred to die in the river. In that case, what bank did he rob? Where was he from? There was nothing in the bag to tell. Nota scrap of paper. No change of underwear, nothing but money. Undoubtedly the bank would pay a big reward for the return of the stolen cash. On the other hand, wasn’t there danger in approaching a bank and suggesting that its — money was in his possession ? All sorts of strange thoughts crowded into Hilwin’s head. He imagined that covetous eyes were gazing at him, and he hastened to pull down the window shade, and cover the keyhole with his hat. “What am I going to do? What can I do? Supposing, oh, supposing I could keep this money myself. He ave it to me, CLAN) Ebooks:com