Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

912 of Ulysses. The latter he liked to com- pare with A‘neas, and A‘neas invariably led to a discussion of Cicero, the Latin orator. It was after the daughter of the latter that he one day named the voung entertainer Tulhia. Then came the afternoon that Martin Muldoon, the barkeep, stopped Two Step Lou as she was leaving the dance hall and told her of a strange phenomenon. It was nearly four o’clock and the Professor had not called around for a single drink! She stared dubiously at the barxeep for an instant. Then an expression of alarm came into her face and she rushed to the stairway. Her suspicion was correct. The last of the Farrsworths was lying in bed, almost delirious with pain and suffering. ‘““ Daddy!” cried the woman, taking one worn old hand. ‘“ What’s happened to you, daddy?” The Professor’s bleared and bloodshot eyes fixed themselves on her pretty face. A slow smile twisted his mouth. His lips moved painfully. “ My little Tullia! My little Tullia!” He stopped and looked about him at the barren walls whicn bounded his estate. ‘ Afors venit. Death is coming to me, little Tullia, and I have squandered the fortune that I would bequeath to you. All that is left—” He lapsed then into a sort of coma, and Two Step Lou rushed for a doctor. Ior three weeks then the dance hall roisterers of the Four Deuces Bar saw nothing of her. Con Milroy stormed and argued in vain. The patrons were calling for her. What did she mean wasting her time on an old bum who had lived far too long already ? Two Step Lou flew into a rage at that and threatened to kill the dance hall pro- prietor if he opened his mouth again. Con retreated downstairs, where he found Terry Watts lounging against the bar. Barbary’s political whipcracker listened attentively to Con’s tale of woe. “Aw, don’t let that bother you,” he counseled, reaching for a fresh cigar. “ I'll take care of Lou in a couple of days. She don’t like me, but I’m goin’ to make her like me. I’m startin’ for the mountains pretty quick, an’ Lou’s goin’ along with ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. me—see? She don’t know it yet, but she is. An’ then vou can take care of the bum any way you want. Throw him in the bay, Con, 1f you feel inclined that wav.” Meanwhile Two Step Lou attended the Professor. Day and night she was with him, nursing the old vagabond with all the tenderness of a doting daughter. She pulled him through, too, and finally he was able to leave his cot and dress. ‘That dav, while the dance hall girl was out, he shuffled un- certainly down the stairs and appeared smil- ing at the bar. ‘““ My good sir, pray pour me a libation,” spoke the last of the Farnsworths. ‘ You are in arrears to me a considerable quantity of ambrosia, but I shall cancel vour debt in consideration of one dram. I thank vou.” The Professor, to all intents and pur- poses, had come back. VI. ALL was serene at the Four Deuces for three days after that. The fiddles squeaked, the whisky slopped@ upon the table tops, the rollicking cance went on—but not a single fight occurred within its walls. No drunken sailors mixed in elemental argument over a woman. No hard citizen from “south 0’ the slot ’ attempted to show a government trooper the error of his ways. This super- fluity of amity was almost unprecedented. It had an ominous portent. At least. that’s what Martin Muldoon said as he was polishing the glasses on the afternoon of the fourth day. Martin was a veteran along Pacific Street and his coun- sels were not to be lightly cast aside. ‘‘ Something’s going to happen,” he told Con Milroy. “ There's a bet vou can plav on the nose and collect. I ain’t seen things so peaceful since the time just before ‘ Ike the Rabbit ’ was bumped off for his rocks. You know what thev say about it being calm just ahead of a storm. Well?” “Oh, shut up, Marty. You ought to be a undertaker and pour the embalming fluid in direct—not letting the customer drink his own.” Thus the playful scoffing of Con Milroy, but his barkeep was nevertheless correct. At ten thirty that night Terry Watts strode TA COMmMIiclook