Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

430 ‘“T don’t want receipts from you.” pro- tested Carefrew virtuously. ‘Maybe not, but I want to give ‘em to you,” and Huber Davis smiled. ‘“ Damned rotter!” reflected Carefrew as he passed on his way. He was not acquainted in or with Sabang. It was not hard to see what he desired, however, and presently he succeed- ed beyond his expectations. A dirty window filled with dried oysters and strings of fish and: other things, after the Chinese fashion, carried also a display of temple candles. They had only appeared in the window that morning, but Carefrew did not know it, and would not have cared had he known it. Carefrew stopped and inspected the can- dles, which were exactly what he wanted. There was a half-inch wick of twisted cot- ton, around which was built the candle, two inches thick. The outside was gaudy red and blue with sticky greasepaint, and at the lower end was a protruding reed four _ Inches long. By this reed one might handle the affair without marring the paint, and into this reed fitted the upright prong of a candle- _ stick. The whole candle was bound inside _a big joint of bamboo, which held it without harm. Noting that there was one candle on display, and that there seemed to be but two more with it, Carefrew entered the shop, found the proprietor, and priced the candles. The proprietor had brought them from Singapore ten years previously and did not want te~sell them. However, Care- frew offered a ten-florin note, and carried them home. He was, for the moment, a child with a new toy, completely absorbed in it, and utterly heedless of all the rest of the world. Another man might have had weights upon his conscience, but Reginald Carefrew was not bothered by any such. He laid the three bamboo cylinders upon the dining-table, after it had been laid for dinner, and opened them, cutting the shrunken withes that held them securely. The glaring red candles lay before him, and for a moment he pulled at his cigarette and studied them. Knowing what sort of . candles they were, he tentatively touched ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. them with his forefinger. was the greasepaint. One by one he set them carefully upon the three prongs of his jade candlestick. One could not blame his ardent admira- tion. Even to an eye which knew nothing of Chinese art, the picture was exquisite; to one who could appreciate fully, it was marvelous. Candles and candlestick blend- ed into a perfect thing, a creation. . “And to think that it cost me,’ said Carefrew to his brother-in-law, when Huber Davis appeared, “ exactly nineteen florins— ten of which were for the candles!” Huber Davis gazed at the outfit apprais-' ingly, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘“ If I were you,” he said after a moment, “Td get rid of it, Reggy. You certainly _ picked up something there—but it doesn’t look right to me. You don’t catch John Chinaman handing out stuff like that at a bargain price, not these days!” ‘‘ Bosh!” ejaculated Carefrew. ‘“ A pick- up, that’s all—one of the things that comes the way of any man who keeps his eyes open.” Huber Davis shrugged his shoulders. “ Got the red stuff on your hands, eh?” Carefrew smiled vaguely—his smile was always vague and _ disagreeable — and glanced at his hands. He rubbed them, and the red spots became a fine pink rouge. “Tl light ’°em up,” he said, “ and then wash for dinner, eh?” | Huber Davis said nothing, but watched with cold-growing eyes as Carefrew lighted the three wicks. He was somewhat long in doing this, for they were slow to catch. When they did flare, jt was with a yellow, smoky light that sent a black trail to the ceiling. Carefrew turned to leave the room, but the voice of his brother-in-law brought him about quickly. ‘Wait! I had a letter to-day from my _ agent in Batavia, Reggy. He said that Ruth had been in the office—he was helping her straighten up some of your affairs.” A subtle alarm crept into the narrow eyes of Carefrew as he met the cold, pasgionless gaze of Huber Davis. “Well?” he demanded suddenly. ‘‘ What is the idea?” The touch left as red blotch at the end of his finger, so soft: » COMICEDOO S (C(O) inn