Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

544 bother! they had to manage her. him out of the way somehow? No, such a trick would be beneath her. He had to learn sooner or later that she was her own mistress. Carola had evening cloak, gloves, and bag handy to her hand, and as soon as the rakish landaulet drew into the curb she scampered down the stairs. Alas! Mc- Quissick was mounting guard in the front hall, seated on a chair, reading a news- paper. ‘Going out?” he asked in surprise. “Yes,” said Carola, with her sweetest smile. “Shall I come?” “No, thank you.” McQuissick scratched his head. How- ever much trouble it might make, his sense of duty forced him to ask the question: “Where you going?” Carola’s dander rose, but she controlled it yet. “ To the theater with a friend,” she answered sweetly. Everybody seemed to feel that Could she get “H-m!”’ said McQuissick somewhat grimly. He was a father. ‘ Who is it?” he asked. Then the storm broke. Carola stamped her foot and proclaimed her independence anew. She refused to answer. “Well, somebody’s got to look after you,” said McQuissick, with a worried look, “and there den’t seem to be anybody on the job with me. Every crook and confi- dence man in town has got his eyes peeled for you after reading them stories in the newspapers. God knows I don’t relish the job!” “ Then give it up!” cried Carola. “ Un- derstand, I will not be looked after! You will have to leave me. You have made it impossible for me to have you here.” “All right! All right!” said McQuis- sick sadly. “ It was bound to come to this. I’m sorry. Just the age of my girl, too. But I guess it was impossible.” Carola waited for no more. She ran down the front steps with the tears spring- ing to her eyes. An inner voice whispered to her that she had thrust away her best friend, but she would not listen to it. She flung herself into Mr. Breedon’s car, still ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. seething with indignation. A fatherly pat- ting of the big man’s hand soothed her. Here at last was a nice person who undet- stood her and did not force her to quarrel with him. CHAPTER IX. BROADWAY AFTER DARK. N his way to fetch Carola, John Breedon stopped at Elysia, in Forty-Ninth Street. This resort, the smartest in New York, did not adver- tise itself to the world by a sign over the door. The modest exterior in no way sug- gested the luxury within. Three plain, old- fashioned brownstone dwellings had been thrown together. They had been complete- ly rebuilt inside, but the prim facades had been preserved unaltered, except that the entrance was now at the level of the former basements. The entrance floor was devoted to dress- ing rooms in front, kitchen and service rooms behind, while the main restaurant was on the first floor with a gallery sur- rounding it. On the third floor there were charming rooms devoted to roulette, bac- carat, and simple Canfield; but one had to be an initiate before gaining admittance here. - Breedon proceeded to the manager’s lit- tle office on the entrance floor, and mes- sengers were sent scurrying abgut for the men he desired to speak to. Elysia en- joyed a good patronage for dinner, and there was dancing throughout the evening; but of course the big show did not begin until after the theater. One by one the men sent for hastened to Breedon, not with- out a certain anxiety; Paul Chablon, the ostensible proprietor of the place, and four slim and good-looking young men, most beautifully finished. Breedon took care to close the door be- fore he started speaking. ‘“ Boys,” he said, rolling the long cigar, “ I’m bringing Carola Goadby here to-night, and I want you all to help me show her a good time. She’s a personal friend of mine. Nice girl. I pre- soom you read about her in the papers?” They nodded, anxiously studying the fat, AA . MIG .OOKS EO) com