Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

NOTHING BUT MONEY. cooing pleasantly into the ear of the clerk he had fired a few days before. And cau- tion told him that he must not become friendly with Miss Simpson, because her father was one person who knew him for what he was. It was going to be hard snubbing Miss Simpson, however. She was one of those girls whose eyes made you think of limpid pools and whose smile seemed to bathe you in radiance. And she was apparently in- terested in Harry. Her own crowd de- clared she was making a dead set at him. Harry’s acquaintance with girls since he left college had been limited by his pocket- book. Girls mean expense in New York. Theaters, motion pictures, dinners, dances are required of every young man who wishes to make good. He knew a number of girls in Jersey who would consent to let him park in their parlors, but even these re- quired escort to a dance or a theater occa- sionally. And what these little attentions had been wont to do to his twenty-five dollars per! A girl of Miss Simpson’s type was a new experience for him. Not much prettier per- haps than the stenographers and bookkeep- ers of his acquaintance, she had the aid of hairdresser, modistes, jewelers, furriers and beauty shops to accentuate her natural ad- vantages. And she had the confidence of a society girl, the experience of a hundred flirtations, and the amazingly frank, almost masculine way of talking which modern New York girls have adopted. When a beautiful little thing you have just met, on whom you hope you might make an impression, suddenly looks at you pleadingly and says: “Tlove you. Will you marry me?” it sort of takes your breath away. It’s unfair, embarrassing and it knocks a man who isn’t used to such treat- ment off his pins. And if such an unpro- voked assault causes the victim to blush, hesitate and possibly accept the offer it fills the little hussy with unholy glee. Pocket flasks circulated freely and it was nearly nine o’clock when the crowd decided to move on to the theater. In two taxis they set out for Broadway. In some man- ner Ruth Simpson fell to Harry and she snuggled against him in the cab in a most 193 inviting manner. When he was slow in putting his arm around her she grabbed it and personally placed it in proper position herself, asking almost petulantly: ‘““ Where were you brought up?” The play was a musical comedy, full of pretty girls and poor comedians. Musically | it was like all the rest. Harry thought it marvelous, however, because of the com- pany he was in, the drinks he had enjoyed, and the general hilarity. Suddenly, to- ward the end of the second act, a sharp shiver ran through him. He remembered the inquisitive stranger in the lobby and the bag of money, unguarded in his room. After his peek into paradise to-night it would be | too cruel if anything happened to his treasury. He must get away for a little while. Almost rudely he excused himself to Ruth Simpson and the rest, saying he would join them later at the Club Petroushka, and tore up the aisle. To jump into a taxi and reach the Mastodon was the matter of a few minutes. “My key,” he demanded of the clerk at the desk. The clerk looked in the rack. ‘‘ Not here, — Mr. Hilwin. Isn’t it in your pocket?” “No, indeed,” replied Harry after a rapid search. A second clerk looked around. “ Why, I sent up your key a few minutes ago, Mr. Hilwin. You phoned downstairs that you had gone up without it and I sent it up by a bellboy.” ‘““T must have missed him,” muttered Harry, making for the elevator, his mind in a whirl. Evidently that crook in the lobby had got into his room. By this time the bag might be gone. The elevator stopped at the tenth floor and he darted toward his room. The key was in the lock outside. He threw open the door and beheld an alarming spectacle. The trunk was open. Seated on his bed was the rat-faced youth from the lobby, blandly counting the con- tents of the bag. This person looked up, recognized the in- vader and remarked with a sigh of relief: — “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t expect you back for hours,” oO Comicbooks.onn =