Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

DAMMING HAIRPIN He was not above cheating a little, too, if he thought he could get away with it. His chief reliance, though, lay in getting his opponent’s goat. Skill at the game meant nothing to him. What he aimed at was to goad the other fel- low into such a rage that forty jacks, pinochle, one hundred aces, or eighty kings all looked alike to him. Before long he started in on these tactics with Norman. | Naturally it would rile a man who had lost out, he assumed, to hear of an- other’s success with the house that had let him go. So he commenced to talk of the vastly increased business Blair & Co. were doing, and to brag of his own achievements in connection with it. “ Some life-saver I’ve been to that concern,” he declared swaggeringly. “Why, you wouldn’t know the old place, Rich. Don’t be surprised if you hear when I get back from this trip that I’ve been made vice president and general sales manager of the com- pany.” Still, although he kept hammering on in this strain, he couldn’t notice any signs of rising blood pressure on the part of Norman. The latter con- tinued to play his careful, methodical game, and win at least four hands out of five. Crawford was unable to understand it. He didn’t realize that Norman’s was one of those logical minds that have room for only one thing at a time. Just now he was concentrating ex- clusively on Molly Todd’s instructions. She had told him to get Crawford to blowing, on the chance that he might let slip something which would be of value to them. Well, Crawford was certainly blow- ing all right. And since that was the object aimed at, it never occurred to Norman to lose his temper. He just sat tight, played pinochle, and listened for the fellow to make a break. Crawford set his jaw, and made an- other attempt to shatter that unruffled calm. CANON. “Vice president?” he scoffed. “That’s only a stepping-stone. Believe me, Rich, it won’t be long before I am the whole cheese. The old man’s bound to retire in a year or so, and when he does, who so certain to slip into his shoes as his son-in-law? “Oh, yes,” he affirmed as Norman glanced up at the statement. “ That’s on the cards, too. There’s been no formal announcement of it yet, but I’m sure Gladys won’t mind my telling an old friend like you of our engage- ment,” Six months or a year before that intelligence might have caused quite a twinge of the heart to Norman. But now it scarcely created a ripple of in- terest in his breast. The image of Gladys Blair rose to his mind. Why, compared to Molly Todd, she was— But what was the use of talking? There was simply no comparison. So he congratulated Crawford with cordial sincerity, and continued placid- ly with the game. Also, he continued to win, and even more steadily than before. For Craw- ford, furious at his inability to rattle Norman, seemed to have lost his head entirely, and was playing in a way that would have disgraced a beginner. The goat getter for once was having a taste of his own medicine. Finally, stung by the loss of a game in which he was “set” for the limit, Crawford slammed his cards down furiously on the table. “A fool for luck!’ he shouted. “You haven’t the brains of a gnat, and yet it seems nothing can head you off. You'll get yours to-morrow, though, you poor sap. And don’t think that Molly Todd can help you, either. “T saw you two with your heads together, but it won’t do you any good. We've got you and that stuck-up, half- breed squaw both rigged. Want to know how? Well—” But Norman had flung down his own cards, and was on his feet by this 15 COPNIGLOOOKS (E@)