Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

THE WEDDING GIFT. his glass with a grunted, ‘ Here’s to crime!” only to blink with astonishment at the violent kick he got from it. He cast a wary eye upon Hambone, noted that he was sipping his relishingly. Thumb never drank when on a business trip; it was Hambone’s laxity in this re- spect that had led Thumb to choose him for his companion. He wanted to keep an eye on him. And he was instantly warned by reliable inside information that, sur- prising as it might be, a real he-man’s drink had been evolved from the blameless fruit of the orchards. He resolved to drink very little of it, and to see that Hambone did the same. As the pet@rman of the yegg band which was converging upon Bingham, great re- sponsibility rested on Thumb. Without his presence the party would be a total loss, As they raised their glasses, the door leading to the hall across from the dining room half opened, and Ella’s smiling face was framed in it. She nodded in a friendly manner, including them all in her slow re- gard. “ Good night, folks,” she said in her rich contralto. ‘I’ve got to be up early to- morrow. Going to churn, you know, Ed. Think [ll turn in.” Hambone grinned, showing blackened teeth. He waved his half empty tum- bler genially in her direction. “Hop to it, baby! What’s the number 0’ yer room?” A dead silence fell, in which the ticking of the old Willard clock on the office wall sounded austere and accusing. The girl’s face went scarlet, then white; and as it merged into the blackness of the hall as she backed away, Mosely half rose in his chair, his eyes cold and his mouth opening to speak. But Joe Grant beat him to it. He spoke , mildly, though, almost shyly. “You hadn’t ought to say a thing like that,” he remonstrated. Hambone swung sidewise, his leering grin changing to a snarl. “Who says so? An’ why not?” “For one thing, I aim to marry Ella,” Grant said, still speaking softly. “Why, ya old cradle-snatcher!’’? Thumb A15 laughed boisterously. “‘ Mean to tell me ya ain’t married, at your age?” ‘““T’m a widow man, Going on eight years _ now. And my boy’s gone to the city to work, so I’m all alone. ‘Sides, I’m only forty,” he added defensively. “Well, here’s power to ya,” Thumb toasted. “I'll send ya a nice weddin’ pres- ent when it comes off! What say we have a little game of poker? Just friendly like.” Mosely swallowed back his distaste. “I been in the hotel business quite a spell, boys, and one thing I learned is never to set into a game with strangers. Neither me nor Joe has anything but chickenfeed, anyhow. If penny ante is worth your time, we might kill an hour or so that way. What say?” “ Sure,” agreed Thumb. “ We got no money belts stropped round us, either; and we always lose at cards. Bring on the pasteboards, and good-by two bits!” Mosely went behind his bar and raised the lid of an ancient pine desk. ‘““Haven’t even got a new deck,” he apologized. ‘“ Fur’s I’m concerned, I’d as lief play for matches. Don’t seem right to bet real money on cards that’s been pawed over a dozen times.”’ “ Ferget it,’ Thumb laughed. So they cut, and the deal fell to him. He dealt with a deft certainty that was all the more noticeable because the thumb of his right hand was missing, a souvenir of his novitiate in ladling “ soup.” It was this which had earned him his moniker—Thumb Carlin. Long practice coupled with natu- ral dexterity enabled him to do everything with his four fingers that the average man can with five; besides a number of things that not so many men can do at all. Joe Grant watched him with interest. From time to time he raised his eyes to the impassive face of the dealer, and the ghost of a frown gathered on Joe’s forehead. His interest in the game suffered, and at the end of an hour of slow play he had dropped sixty cents. The dull game, or the hard cider, had made them all drowsy. It was Hambone, a . hound for poker, who shoved back his chair with an oath and declared that he could feel his brain softening and his arteries Eomicbooks (S@)