Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

910 lict cast upon the giddy shores of the Bar- bary Coast. Slumming parties stared after the gentle old fellow. Tourist guides, quick to appreciate his scenic value, made up a spiel about him that was almost as weird as the own true story of his life. The sorry citizens of Pacific Street dubbed him the Professor. All called him that except Two Step Lou, the dark and lovely-eyed dance hall girl who helped draw patronage to the Four Deuces Bar. She elected, almost from the start, to call him daddy. The compliment was a dubious one any way you looked at it, for in its most savory sense the term implied close consanguinity. And Two Step, judging her by the prevail- ing moral standards, was not much of a credit as any man’s daughter. Indeed, there is reason to believe that Two Step was a pretty wicked girl. A few went so far as to claim she had some of the devil’s own blood in her veins. They were thinking, of course, of the time when she tore the coat and collar from a reverend vice investigator and threatened to cut his ears off if he didn’t then and there offer up a prayer of gratitude for Pacific Street and the Four Deuces Bar. The account of this unholy incident, to- gether with reports concerning some other manifestations of satanic fury, traveled afar and brought widespread fame to Two Step Lou. She was known by reputation, as you might say, in such diverse ports of call as Shanghai, Santiago, Calcutta and Mel- bourne. The reason is plain. Two Step offered a complete enigma to the sailor folk and the gold miners and the others who were likely to celebrate their stay in San Francisco with high revel at the Four Deuces Bar. They couldn’t understand her swiftly vary- ing moods, her combination of gentle beau- ty and fierce wild ways—and so they con- cedecdl themselves agnostic and held Two Step properly in admiration and awe. For there were times when this strange young dance hall girl could be as soft and sym- pathetic as a madonna. The Count, for one, can recall for you the night that a starving little gray kitten tottered under the swinging door and meowed pitifully for ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, food. He'll tell you how Two Step cried like a child as she gathered it up in her bare, white arms and walked across the dance hall toward the kitchen. It was in this softer mood that she re- garded the Professor. That quality of ten- derness which had been added, it almost seemed, as the devil’s compromise with his Opposition forces impelled Two Step from the start to feel a strange interest in the old vagabond. She questioned the Count about him; she made inquiries of others. And then—one night when the fiddles were squeaking and Barbary was madly awhirl— she abruptly left her male companions and walked up to the Professor. ‘“ Hello,” she said gently. er—crave libation?” The Professor removed his battered old derby and bowed. His bloodshot, gray eyes seemed to shine as his lips shaped a Latin phrase in compliment of the comely young woman standing before him. “Pulchra puella,’ he murmured. ‘ She walks in beauty like the night. Ah, fair daughter, my heart leaps up when I be- hold a—” ‘‘ Now, daddy, you’re talking ’way over my head,” said Two Step, smiling kindly. ‘Cut it out, and let’s have a drink.” They stood at the bar; the graying old man and the voung woman who, in some respects, was just as old as he. She or- dered whisky and paid for it with a silver collar which she took from a little pocket. In those days-—not so many years ago, at that—paper money was something of a curiosity in San Francisco. Two Step her- self would scorn to accept it as legal tender. Here’s to death,” she called, raising her glass and looking mournfully at the Pro- fessor. “ Here’s hoping it ‘ll be kind to some of us poor clevils.”’ She drank, and abruptly her manner changed. The somber expression left her eves. A reckless light shone in them. The dark beauty of her features became sudden- ly animated and her high heeled slippers twinkled in a little dance. Two Step Lou was shifting moods again. ‘‘ Good-by, daddy,” she cried gayly, put- ting her change into the Professor’s hand. Over in a far corner the pianist’s fingers COnnicloo S CO