Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

216 — smile as they shook hands. She brought her roll of- music to the piano rack and doffed her plain gray tailored coat and a white toque. She called upward to Paula, announcing her arrival. “Do you do much playing?” asked Steve, lounging against the piano sociably. “Oh, yes. It’s my profession, you know.” “Profession? Huh! You look more like a little home body to me!” Her brown eyes flashed up toward his quizzical blue ones; and then she looked down upon the ivory keys again. He saw that her lashes were very long. ‘“‘T must support myself,” she explained. “And you travel around from place to place, hammering pianos?” “ Recently, yes. I used to be with Paula alone, but she hasn’t been herself lately.” Suddenly Beth reached up a hand and clutched his sleeve. “Oh, take her away, Mr. Kane! You’re her brother. Get her somewhere where she’ll forget things. She hasn’t been right since this terrible business started.” “What terrible business?” Beth flushed. She touched a little plain- tive note on the piano: “‘ Plunk!” “YT wish you did not know!” she mur- mured, choosing her words. “I wish we had never gone into this terrible thing.” “Great Scott! Are you a bootlegger, ~ too?” _ keys. New Her hands opened out over the piano ‘““No, no, no! I refused to touch a penny when I learned what it was. I took my loss; but Paula couldn’t afford that. She was in too deeply.” “ Could you afford it?” é Beth fondled the keyboard. He liked the gloss of her brown hair and the dain- tiness of her supple fingers; but he liked her reply better: “T can always afford to be loyal to my friends, even though I may not approve. Take her away, Mr. Kane. You'll never re- stet it!” -- The doorbell rang again before Steve could reply. Paula, in blue, swept down- stairs and gave Steve time to disappear behind a side wall before she opened the . i Ne ee ee Te aie ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. door; and then he heard the heavy, slangy voice of Steinemann, the human elephant. Steve peeped out and saw that the visitor was clad in all the splendor that the law allowed. Above his ruddy, chubby face was a shining high hat. His pink chops were shaved almost to whiteness. Under his rolling chin was a speckless high collar and white cravat. At the left lapel of his long black coat was a red carnation. Gray striped trousers, spats and patent leather shoes appeared beneath the coat. With a bow he presented Paula with a long box, presumably flowers. He grinned in a friendly manner, making a little gesture toward his raiment. “Me, I got class!” he announced. ““ Look me over!” “Tam quite surprised!” came Paula’s voice, truthfully. There was a hesitant mo- ment. Then: “ Won’t you come in?”’ “Yeh; sure. I always like to be among other classy people, hu-hu-hu!”’ The mountain of flesh strolled in. The door closed. Steve felt Beth clutch his arm. “Let us go into the garden,” she sug- gested. “I do not like this man.” “But how about Paula?”’ “Oh, she’s safe enough, except for being made ridiculous. We’d better go. It might be more tactful.” ; “Yes,” agreed Steve. “ There’s going to be a powerful lot of tact needed around here. Let’s go!” Beth led him out of a side door to a small inclosed garden, where a perfect little green lawn was bordered by a pathway, and then by a thick but studied tangle of bushes, vines and flowers, forming little nooks. A high gray Italian wall stood at the rear and sides of the place. A little fountain, framed in moss and water grass, splashed musically from a small arch in the rear wall. Graceful marble seats stood on the pathway or peeped from the deeper shrubbery. A butterfly flashed in the sunlight. Birds twittered in the brush. The place was calm, peaceful, isolated from the world. “T love it,” said Beth, taking one of the pathway seats. “Can you blame Paula for not wanting to give it up?” (E@) COr